


No time to sleep when we walk wild and free

by Iinu (Rushisu)



Category: Tales of Zestiria
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, Drama, Friendship, Humor, Multi, Slow Burn, rivals to friends to lovers, will update the tags later
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-26
Updated: 2016-12-07
Packaged: 2018-05-16 11:41:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 23,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5827306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rushisu/pseuds/Iinu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What had started out as a promising friendship turned sour after a collision between two different upbringings and years later, the rivalry between Sorey Shepherd and Mikleo Rulay has become well-known among the students and teachers of Hogwarts.</p>
<p>The teachers wish that other students would take their education as diligently as Sorey and Mikleo do.</p>
<p>The rest of the student body wonder when one of them will drown the other in the Great Lake.</p>
<p>And the friends of Sorey and Mikleo are taking bets on how long it will be until they end up banging in the Room of Requirements.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

On the morning of September 1st, eleven years old Mikleo Rulay found himself staring in awe at the utter chaos that the Platform 9 ¾ of King's Cross Station was at 10:37 o'clock.

It wasn't the first time he had been there – the young wizard distantly recalled how he, along with his mother and uncle, had escorted his second cousin there when he had been four. Mikleo remembered being completely enamored with the scarlet red steam train which had seemed gigantic in his eyes. Of course, the Hogwarts Express was still very impressive train but it was the clusters of people, scattered all across the platform that made Mikleo's violet eyes widen and heart beat just a little bit faster. The view, the loud sound of people chattering and their laughter were almost overwhelming and a small part of him wanted to hide behind his mother's skirt, like he had done as a toddler many times. Of course, he didn't act on that want, as Mikeo was already eleven and would rather hex himself than humiliate himself like that.

He did lean a little bit closer to his mother.

“It seems we're a little early,” Muse stated next to him, violet eyes on the crowd as well, but expression relaxed and completely opposite of Mikleo's own pale face. “Now Mikleo, are you sure you have everything? Your books, wand and – Oh, you did remember to let Merlin out earlier, didn't you?”

“My books and wand are in the trunk and Merlin had an hour long hunt while we were having breakfast,” Mikleo gave his Eurasian eagle owl a fond look, smiling slightly when his beloved pet hooted softly, as if to agree with him.

Muse chuckled and ruffled her son's fair hair affectionately. “I'm sorry, I shouldn't have doubted you,” she apologized, “Always so organized... I wouldn't be surprised if you were sorted into Ravenclaw.”

“That was your house, right?” 

“Indeed it was,” Muse paused for a moment, smoothening her son's hair with gentle hands, before opening her mouth to continue but a somewhat familiar voice was faster, “Muse Rulay, is that you?” a woman's voice asked, barely audible over the sound of children's laughter coming from little farther away.

The woman in question and Mikleo both turned around. There was a family of three standing behind them, parents sporting smiles. “Oh!” Muse exclaimed, face blooming with delight. “Lawrence and Medea! It's so good to see you again!” she hugged them both before turning her gaze onto their daughter, a girl whose light hair had been carefully braided with a red ribbon. “Hello there Lailah, eager to start your first year in Hogwarts?”

“Yeah!” the girl chirped with sparkles in her green eyes.

Mr. Mioma laughed. “She could barely sleep last night. Our house-elf had to almost feed and dress her so we would get here on time!”

“How about you Mikleo?” Mrs. Mioma asked while Lailah was sending her father an indignant glare. “This is your first year as well, yes? Are you excited to truly study magic?”

Mikleo nodded, “I am,” he said politely. The Miomas were friends of the Rulays – both were old pureblood families with history that could be traced back to the times of Merlin himself – and he had spent a lot of time with Lailah throughout their childhoods. They were nice people in Mikleo's opinion and he liked Lailah, although most of her jokes were cringeworthy at best. 

“I must say it's a relief to know there's at least one person my son is familiar with,” Muse stated, placing a hand on Mikleo's shoulder and giving a slight squeeze.

“Oh, I know exactly what you mean,” Mrs. Mioma sighed, “I was quite worried about whether or not Edna Yulind would attend Durmstrang Institute like her brother but according to her mother, little Edna isn't that fond of cold and shall receive her education in Hogwarts. She and Lailah are such good friends and I know my daughter would have been devastated had Edna chosen otherwise. ”

Mikleo visibly paled.

“Did you hear that Mikleo? You and Edna are gonna spend seven years in the same classes, perhaps even sharing a house.” his mother whispered with glitter of amusement in her violet eyes, “This gives you plenty of time to apologize for last summer's Pixie Incident.”

The young wizard gulped, too distraught to remind Muse that he had written an apology letter to the Yulind family almost as soon as they had returned from their summer cottage. Of course, knowing Edna and her rather unforgiving personality, Mikleo was certain he would hear about the unfortunate incident for years to come.

Mr. Mioma clapped his hands together, “Well then, I think it's time for you two to get on the train before all compartments are full.”

“Get some snacks from the train trolley – but remember there's a whole feast waiting for you in the Hogwarts and it is not something to miss because you're already full from chocolate frogs!” Lailah's mother said as she pulled out a purse made of shiny purple leather.

“We will,” Lailah smiled as she pocketed the coins.

“Write as soon as you find time,” Muse reminded, “I remember how confusing it was for the first weeks – and please remember to enjoy this year your fullest, okay Mikleo?”

“Okay,” the boy replied with a nod, trying his best to ignore how the feelings of excitement and nervousness were muddling together inside him like a physical weight. It was confusing, he thought. He had been waiting for this day for years, ever since his second cousin came home for Christmas during her first year, bearing tales of Hogwarts that absolutely enchanted Mikleo to the point of making him almost obsessed. 

Yet now, when his feet were on the pavement of Platform ¾, the boy felt hesitation crawling up his spine. Mikleo had never been particularly fond of change, big nor small, impactful nor unaffecting – and starting his education at Hogwarts was life changing, a brand new chapter in his admittedly short life. 

Mikleo inhaled deeply before looking at Lailah, “Should we go and find a compartment?” he asked. The young witch nodded, same mixture of nervous excitement evident in her emerald eyes which made Mikleo feel little more at ease. 

It was nice to know he wasn't the only one feeling like this.

After giving last waves of goodbyes, the pair boarded the train, eyes glued to their surroundings. Mikleo had traveled in trains before, courtesy of his whimsical Uncle Michael who could make an adventure out even from a basic trip to Diagon Alley, which would occasionally drive Muse up a wall. But there was something about the Hogwarts Express that made it stand out from the muggle trains – even if one didn't count the old fashioned decorations. 

“Hopefully, we'll find an empty compartment,” Lailah mumbled, eyeing the moderate amount of students scurrying around the narrow corridor. They proceed their search by peeking through little windows by each compartment, hastily leaving every time they saw noticeably older students chatting on the plush red seats.

On Mikleo's fifth try, his eyes landed on Compartment M, which turned out to be empty. “Over here Lailah!” he called out the girl while opening the slide door.

The young boy dragged his trunk into a corner before sitting onto the red seat, which were much softer compared to the muggle trains. “How long do you think it takes before the train leaves?” he mused aloud. 

“I have a watch,” Lailah chirped as she sat onto the seat opposite of Mikleo's. “There's still... 15 minutes left.” she paused, bright eyes gazing back to Mikleo. “So how did your summer go? Mom told me that your uncle took you to New Zealand for few days.”

Time passed by as the pair swapped stories from their summers until the door slid open and a short blonde girl with an expression of total boredom marched in.

Oh no, Mikleo thought and sank deeper into his seat as Lailah let out a squeal of happiness.

“Edna!” the witch shouted with joy, shooting up from her seat and wrapping her thin arms around the shorter girl. Edna merely stood there, letting her friend hug her rather roughly for a moment before gently pushing Lailah away – expression never changing. “Lailah,” she said as a greeting before her gaze landed on Mikleo.

The young wizard felt a shiver go up his spine.

Edna's lips widened slightly into a tiny taunting smile. “I'm surprised, didn't think you had the guts to show up after last summer.”

“Don't bring that up – I already apologized, didn't I?” Mikleo mumbled, neck flushing red and eyes not quite meeting hers. 

“Sure thing Pixie-o,” Edna replied as Lailah tugged her by the arm to sit next to her. 

Mikleo buried his head into his hands, grumbling under his breath as Lailah tried her best to muffle her giggles. At least she tried to hide her amusement, the boy thought – Even if she didn't quite succeed. 

Mikleo couldn't quite describe his relationship with Edna. Much like with Miomas, the young blonde's family was a family friend of Rulays and Mikleo has spent a lot of time with Edna and her older brother Eizen ever since they were in diapers. But they weren't friends, not like they both were with Lailah – the whole Pixie fiasco was more than enough evidence of that. 

“I'm so glad you decided to come to Hogwarts,” Lailah declared giddily. 

The shorter witch shrugged nonchalantly. “Judging from Eizen's descriptions of Durmstrang, I don't think I would have enjoyed that place much – the only plus side was that muggleborns aren't allowed there.”

Her statement was followed by a silence. Both Mikleo and Lailah gaped at her, jaws slack and eyes bulging almost comically. 

“Edna!” Lailah gasped eventually, tone scandalized, “You can't say something like that!” she spoke in a hushed voice, eyes glancing at the doorway, most likely worrying that somebody had heard the short witch.

The girl in question merely raised an eyebrow, “I don't mean it like that,” she scoffed, sounding irritated by the other two's assumptions. “I don't care about blood purity or something stupid like that – but have you seen first year muggleborns? I swear, they get confused over the stupidest things – like last year when mother and I escorted my cousin Cynthia here, I heard some snotfaced idiot wondering how it was possible for photographs to have moving people in them.”

“It's still not a very nice thing to say,” Lailah scolded but her shoulders relaxed a bit. Edna pursed her lips and rolled her eyes slowly, making it clear just how much she really cared about whether or not her words were nice.

The trio could hear commotion pouring from outside as more and more students boarded the Hogwarts Express. Even the train itself was wheezing and huffing as it prepared for the long journey. Mikleo rested his head against the window and watched the people outside while Lailah was telling Edna about her summer. Neither his mom or the Miomas were anywhere in sight. It didn't particularly surprise the young wizard – he had told Muse she didn't have to be there until the train took off. 

“Oh!” Lailah exclaimed suddenly, “We'll leave in two minutes!”

It certainly seemed like it, Mikleo thought, eyes glued onto the window. There was still a crowd of people on the platform but almost all of them were parents or other relatives, most of them waving goodbyes to their children, some looking joyful and proud, others openly crying.

“Uh... excuse me,” a voice from the doorway made Mikleo tear his eyes off the window. There was a girl standing there hesitantly, young with dirty blonde hair pulled in high pigtails. Her cheeks were flushed and she appeared to be panting, as if she had been in a hurry to get there. “You... you guys are first years students, right?” she asked stiffly as her green eyes nervously darted between all three pureblooded kids.

She seemed to relax a bit when they nodded. “Would you mind if my friend and I sat here? It's pretty full elsewhere.”

Lailah clasped her pale hands together and smiled brightly, “Of course not!”

“Thank you,” the girl took a step back and shouted into the corridor, “Sorey, we can sit here!”

Mikleo could barely hear the sound of footsteps as the Hogwarts Express let out a high pitched whistle, drowning other sounds efficiently. Suddenly, a boy with dark brown hair and green eyes appeared beside the girl, grinning so widely it made Mikleo's own jaw ache. “The train is moving!” he announced gleefully with sparkles of excitement in his eyes and whole body trembling.

Sure enough, one glance at the window proved the boy's statement to be true.

At that exact same moment tomorrow, he was going to be a student at Hogwarts, Mikleo realized. The thought made him almost grin as widely as the dark-haired boy, who had taken the seat next to Mikleo. “So who are you guys?” the cheerful boy asked, still smiling like he had jumped straight out of a toothpaste commercial.

“Isn't it polite to tell your own name before asking somebody else's?” Edna replied prickly, tilting her head slightly in mock wonder.

The boy didn't seem bothered by the cold treatment. “Oh right,” he scratched his cheek with a sheepish grin. “I'm Sorey Shepherd, nice to meet you!”

“And my name is Alisha Diphda,” the girl bowed, her pigtails bouncing. 

That was a name Mikleo had certainly heard before. Curiosity piqued, he couldn't help but to blurt out, “Diphda? Are you a relative of the Minister of Magic?”

“Uh, yeah,” Alisha answered bashfully. “She is my father's aunt.” she fiddled with the hem of her shirt, eyes fixed onto a point somewhere over Mikleo's shoulder, making it clear this wasn't a subject she seemed comfortable talking about. Judging by the glare Edna was sending in his direction, he wasn't the only one who noticed.

Thankfully Lailah, who had a talent for steering the conversations away from awkwardness, merely smiled encouragingly, “I'm Lailah Mioma and these are Edna Yulind and Mikleo Rulay.”

There was a flicker of recognition in Alisha's eyes. “Oh, those are all quite... famous names.”

“You gotta problem with that?” Edna sneered, arms crossed over her chest and head raised. Mikleo had known the young witch long enough to know her threatening tone and pose were merely dramatics, and that she really couldn't care less about whether or not the other girl had a problem with her.

Alisha raised her hands defensively, expression alarmed, “N-Not at all, it's just...” she paused, looking like she was trying to figure out the right words but few seconds later her shoulders slumped in defeat, “I'm sorry for offending you.”

“There's no need to apologize,” Mikleo comforted calmly, although mentally he was already rubbing his temples. Leave it to Edna to start terrorizing other students when they had barely managed to leave London. “Edna is just being melodramatic, nothing unusual.”

“Yeah, like you're one to talk, Meebo Boolay.”

Mikleo gritted his teeth together and a frustrated growl escaped from his mouth. He was about to retort when a glimpse of something brown appeared in the corner of his vision. Sorey, who watched the scene in front of him with a polite, albeit slightly amused, smile, had something sticking out from his shirt collar.

“You got something stuck there,” the fair-haired wizard told him, pointing his own shirt collar.

“Huh, really?” the other wizard mimicked Mikleo's movements before his hand caught onto the object.

Mikleo leaned closer when Sorey pulled it off. “It's a... feather?”

“Oh,” Sorey chuckled, still holding the feather. “Goblin must have dropped it this morning when we played hide and seek.”

His statement was met with three confused stares. “Sometimes I hide owl treats into my clothes and have my owl seek them out,” he explained with a hesitant grin. 

“You named your owl Goblin?” Mikleo inquired with arched eyebrows. “Why would you name it after those creeps?”

“You're a muggleborn, aren't you?” Edna asked before Sorey had a chance to answer.

The boy in question blinked. “How did you know?”

“Just a lucky guess,” the young witch said with a tone drier than all the Earth's deserts combined. In the corner of his eyes, Mikleo noticed Alisha's body tensing slightly. Curiosity once again ignited inside his mind as Mikleo wondered how a muggleborn boy could have befriended a member of one of the oldest pureblood families in all Europe. Perhaps he could ask later, when they were better acquaintances and there weren't any witches who had made it their personal goal in life to ruin Mikleo's life in sight. 

“And there's nothing wrong with that, right?” Lailah's voice was unexpectedly forceful and despite the smile on her face, her eyes were casting a cautionary look at Edna.

“Ugh, this again?” Edna sneered and crossed her thin arms over her chest. “I have said this before; I don't care about blood status, only that whether or not people are annoying. I mean, look at Meebo here – his blood couldn't be any purer yet he is an absolute pest,” the sneer was replaced by a taunting smile, “Pestleo.”

The wizard in question bit his lip to prevent himself from replying, fully aware that any word out of his mouth would be used as fuel to Edna's own taunts, and stubbornly looked outside the window. His hands were itching for his wand and for a brief moment Mikleo wondered about his chances of escaping if he casted a charm on Edna. Of course, it was but a bitter fantasy, as Mikleo possessed basic survival instincts and didn't wish for the next seven years of his life to become a hell on earth. 

“Anyway,” Lailah, most likely sensing yet another argument, clasped her hands together, “What subjects are you interested to learn in Hogwarts?”

0o0o0

It had been hours since the Hogwarts Express started its long journey towards Hogsmeade Station. The sun was setting, casting long streaks of dark red light in the horizon. In the countryside, the sky seemed more dramatic than in cities, Sorey observed absentmindedly. Normally he would have admired such beautiful scenery but in his current state, the boy felt too restless to concentrate on anything for more than a minute. 

The train would stop any minute now, Sorey realized as he watched the train pass by wide green fields. He and the others in the compartment had already changed into their black school robes, which were heavy and slightly itchy in certain places but just wearing them made Sorey so excited he was positively vibrating in his seat. The blonde girl, Edna, huffed in annoyance when he babbled about the upcoming year of learning magic. She probably didn't appreciate his constant chattering, Sorey thought, guilt prickling through his chest like thin needles every time he looked in her direction. But there was nothing else the young wizard could do – forcing himself to be excited was the only way to keep the soul crushing anxiety, looming in the darkest corner of his mind, at bay.

There was no need to worry Alisha as well, Sorey thought. His jaw was starting to ache from his almost constant smiling but he needed to assure Alisha that everything was fine, that he was okay.

He had known the witch for a year, having been introduced to her and her parents merely three days after Zenrus had officially become his guardian little over a year ago. The Diphdas lived on the same street as Zenrus and Sorey and being the same age and having similar interests had bonded the two kids together quickly. It had been her friendship that helped Sorey stay grounded when everything around him crashed and burned to ashes. 

Sorey owed her a lot, more than Alisha probably even understood herself. 

“Is everything alright?” A concerned voice made the boy snap out of his thoughts. His green eyes landed on a frowning Lailah.

“Yeah, just getting a bit tired.”

“Well, it is a long trip,” Lailah admitted, eyes softening sympathetically, “But it shouldn't last much longer.”

“Actually, you might be more right than you think,” Mikleo was looking out of the window, “Is it just me or is the train actually slowing down?”

While the fair-haired boy and his two friends were focusing on the window, Alisha gave Sorey an inquiring look. “I'm okay,” he mouthed with a smile he hoped to be encouraging. Fortunately, his friend seemed to buy it as she also turned her attention to the window.

“I think that's Hogsmeade over there!” Lailah declared in delight.

She was correct, Sorey realized. He could see lights lit in the horizon, shining brighter as the sun slowly lowered into the horizon. The station, barely visible when Sorey first laid his eyes on it, kept growing bigger and bigger as the Hogwarts Express headed towards it.

Sorey could faintly hear commotion coming from outside. Few older students, who still wore their casual clothes, passed by the compartment in a rush for last minute change.

None of the first year students spoke, all four of them too focused on the station that was approaching quickly. Even the multiple wheezes and hisses coming from the train machinery seemed to quiet down considerably.

Few minutes later, the Hogwarts Express halted and with one last whistle, the train went quiet.

For a short period of time, it was completely silent, as if all the passenger took a second to mentally prepare for the upcoming year. But the moment was short and it didn't take long before the train was filled with all kinds of noises as the students flowed outside.

“Well then,” Alisha spoke, her voice wavering, “Shall we go as well?”

The other three merely nodded, standing up with trembling feet. 

The corridor was, unsurprisingly, packed with students – few older ones hurried past Sorey, shoulders colliding with him painfully. The crowd kept pushing forward and the young boy quickly grasped Alisha's sleeve to make sure they wouldn't get separated. The air was warm and getting stuffy thanks to the amount of children – So when Sorey finally hopped off the train, instantly followed by Alisha, the fresh air hit his face like a bucket of cold water.

The dusk was setting and the sky was getting a dark purplish hue to it, the moon already somewhat visible behind gray clouds. There were students as far as Sorey's eyes could see, and more was still flowing from the train like a waterfall.

The sound of a bell ringing snapped Sorey out of his musings. The jingling racket echoed through the station, over the commotion and was followed by a booming voice.

“First year students come here! If you're a first year student, get your behind here immediately!”

Sorey looked behind him. The three other students whom he and Alisha had shared the compartment with were nowhere in sight, swallowed by the masses.

The pair followed the boisterous voice with ease. There was a group gathering around a tall man, the owner of the voice, all huddled up together with wide and curious eyes.

“First year students, I need you to come here right now!” the man bellowed. He was a tall and towered over the first year students like a beacon. He was holding a brightly lit lantern that brightened his bronze colored skin with a yellowish tinge. In such light, Sorey could clearly see a wide silver scar running across his nose.

Figuring they would be standing there for a moment, Sorey curiously observed how the older students passed them. He craned his neck and stood on his toes to get a better look at their destination. To his surprise, there were a row after row of black carriages little farther away by a road. Sorey swore he caught glimpses of horse-like creatures pulling the carriages, their forms faintly illuminated by the lanterns.

“Whoa,” he mouthed in awe.

After few minutes of watching the carriages leave one by one, the man with scar coughed loudly. “Okay, I think we're done here. I'm Lucas, the groundskeeper of Hogwarts and also the professor of the Care of Magical Creatures – although you kiddos gotta wait for three years before that becomes relevant.”

He waved to the left, the opposite direction from the carriages. The bell in his hands jingled quietly at the movement. “Some of you may already know this but the first year students get to have their own grand entrance to the castle, so follow me!”

To Sorey's surprise, Lucas guided them to a dock which was just around the corner. It was plain, with five piers standing over the dark murky water. “Line up kids!” the man ordered, “Four students per a boat, understood? And for Merlin's sake, make sure you stay in the boat, and no rocking them you hear?!”

The students obeyed hastily and formed five long lines. For a brief moment Sorey wondered where the boats were, when somebody gasped, “What are those?”

Floating yellow lights were slowly approaching the dock, similar to fireflies, but as they slowly came closer and closer, Sorey realized they were lanterns hung high up onto wooden boats. There was eerie kind of beauty in them that Sorey couldn't help but to admire.

“Be careful or you may slip,” Lucas reminded as the first students started climbing onto the boats. When the first boats were full, they drifted slowly farther away and made room for the next five to take more students. It didn't take long before Sorey and Alisha climbed onto one of them. Small amount of water had managed to wet the seats but it didn't bother either of them. 

“S-Stop that!” a familiar voice reached Sorey's ears and he looked around to find the source. Little farther away, he could see Mikleo flailing his arms as Edna rocked the boat.

“Hey!” Lucas barked, “What did I just say?!”

Sorey watched with amusement as Edna stopped and crossed her arms with an expression suspiciously like a pout – meanwhile Mikleo seemed to sigh in relief.

The muggleborn wizard was so occupied by his observations, he almost failed to notice how two other people climbed onto the boat. “I hope we don't have to be on these things for a long time,” somebody complained. Sorey turned around. The speaker was a girl with short red hair. She wrinkled her nose, “Ugh, never been a fan of sea traveling.”

“You better not throw up like last time,” the boy next to the red-head threatened. He was short and chubby with fair hair that seemed to have a greenish tinge to it. Even though his fringe covered the upper half of his face, Sorey could tell he was glowering at his companion.

The girl just grinned as their boat slowly drifted soundlessly away from the dock. Her smirk reminded Sorey of a cat who had managed to capture its prey. “You're still mad about that? Dez please, I have apologized like a million times for ruining your precious diary.”

“It was not a diary!” the boy snapped, “It was my Observation journal of Flobberworms and their habitats.”

“Sure, whatever you say,” the girl said dismissively before her attention shifted to the other two inhabitants on the boat. “'Sup, I'm Rose and this grumpy here is Dezel.”

The boy in question merely scowled harder as Alisha introduced herself and Sorey. Her tone was stiff and words careful, like they always were when Alisha was forced to meet new people. 

Rose didn't seem to mind, or even notice it. “Boy, I hope this trip doesn't take long – my stomach is growling loud enough to probably wake up the Giant Squid!”

“The Giant what?” Sorey exclaimed with a mixture of awe and childlike wonder.

“Oh, you know,” Rose waved her hand to the direction where the boats were slowly taking them. “The Giant Squid that lives in the Great Lake just by the castle. Lafarga said that this one is tame but... On scale one to Dezel, how grumpy do ya think it would be if we woke it up?”

The fair-haired boy said something, but Sorey was too busy staring at the dark water underneath the boat to really hear it, mind feverishly whirling with questions and hypothesis. His distorted reflection stared back until a gentle slap on his back snapped him out of his thoughts. He turned to meet Alisha's stern expression. “Don't you dare, Sorey.”

The boy in question only managed to let out a weak, sheepish laugh and he scratched his cheek. 

Rose opened her mouth to speak, but another loud voice from the docks interrupted her. “Okay, everybody buckled up?” Lucas asked. He was seated on a boat much like the rest but alone. “Off we got then – next stop, Hogwarts Castle!”

As soon as the last word left the Groundskeeper's mouth, all the boats picked up their speed.

“Cool,” Rose whistled. 

For most of the time, the trip went on in silence. The gently rocking boat was making Sorey's eyelids heavy and he could feel the early excitement and stress taking their toll. His consciousness drifted, for how long the boy did not know.

“Sorey!” Alisha's voice brought the boy in question back to reality. The young witch was looking behind them, mouth open and eyes full of wonder. “Look!”

Sorey obeyed and all traces of tiredness vanished in an instant.

On the opposite end of the lake stood a grand castle, much like the ones Sorey had seen in books and history documentaries. Its dark walls merged with the dim sky, making it almost eerie looking – especially with the slight mist shrouding the bottom part of the castle like a transparent veil. But the young wizard wasn't scared, how could he when there were the countless lanterns, candles and torches shining by windows like stars that welcomed the newcomers warmly with their lights. It was like staring at the very epitome of magic, Sorey thought. 

It took his breath away.

0o0o0

The boats carried the first year students across the lake and into a tunnel that had been drilled into a cliff. Mikleo stared in awe at the tunnel walls, feverishly trying to recall everything there had been about the grand Hogwarts castle in his history books. 

For hundreds of years, first year students had taken their first steps towards the castle there, Mikleo realized. So many great witches and wizards, some famous and some legends, had been in the same spot as Mikleo was. He tried to picture Merlin himself as an eleven year old boy, staring at the tall stone walls and being merely part of a faceless mass of children, only to become the greatest wizard of all time. Had he been scared, nervous or perhaps excited back then, as a mere kid? What about those who had been tempted by the black magic, those who had followed the rotten path of death and malevolence – had they at one point of their twisted lives been scared or in awe of the magic that the castle offered?

The possibilities were endless and for a moment Mikleo wondered if one day a young student would ponder the same question about him. The idea made imaginary butterflies flutter inside his stomach.

The boats finally stopped by the harbor, which in reality was just a row of smooth rocks. In the corner of his violet eyes, Mikleo could see Lucas making a sweeping glance between the students and boats as soon as the last student had gotten off the boat as well. “Okay, everybody used to hard ground again? Good, follow me!”

The groundskeeper ushered the group of children deeper into the tunnel. The air was musky and the sound of gentle waves splashing against the rocks kept echoing even through the blare of many footsteps. Most of the students stayed silent, choosing to study at their surroundings instead of socializing, Mikleo being one of them. While there wasn't really anything truly marvelous in their environment, there was something in the atmosphere that made even the dullest stone walls and floor seem magical and mysterious.

The group soon came across a stairway that led upwards, lit by bright torches hanging on the walls. The stairs were high and by the time he reached the top, Mikleo's thighs were aching slightly. There was a grand wooden door at the top which Lucas opened. It creaked loudly, like it hadn't been opened in a while, and a gust of bitter autumn wind escaped from the crack.

The door revealed a courtyard, one with lush green grass cut to perfection which reminded Mikleo of the yard of his family's mansion. They were almost next to the castle and standing so close to it made the young boy realize just how massive the building was – even without counting the looming towers scattered around the Hogwarts' grounds.

Lucas waved his hands, “Follow me,” he barked, gaining the attention of the students who had been mesmerized by their surroundings. “The boy in the back, you too!” he added soon after.

“Sorry!” Mikleo heard Sorey's voice calling out.

They walked across the courtyard and into a small building by the castle. There was a person waiting by the entrance and the few chattering students quieted down at the sight of them.

The person was a woman, probably in her mid thirties with a red hair pulled into a bun. Her hawk like eyes carefully gazed over the group of students, a smile dancing on her crimson lips. Her expression, albeit polite, didn't seem particularly warm to Mikleo. It was too predatory, too calculating to be considered welcoming.

“Here ya go, Professor Maltran,” Lucas said, “A fresh batch of first year students, straight out of the Hogwarts Express!”

The woman huffed in amusement, her voice rough but not truly unpleasant, “Thank you Lucas, I'll take it from here.” her sharp eyes returned to the students. “As Lucas has already said, my name is Professor Maltran and I welcome all of you to Hogwarts. Now, we must make haste or we'll be late from your sorting ceremony. ”

Few heads perked up at the mention of the ceremony but the professor didn't elaborate further and merely turned around and marched up the stairs.

“See you guys later!” Lucas shouted after them. Few students bid their farewells as well.

Soon the group reached a small and modest room that was barely big enough for all of them to fit. “As most of you likely know already, each student of Hogwarts is sorted into one of the four different Houses – Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, Griffindor or Slytherin. You will attend your classes with your housemates and also share your dorm and common room with them,” Maltran explained with an ease that made it clear she had repeated the same words more than a few times, “Throughout the year, the students can earn points to their House by doing various activities – of course, losing points by breaking the school rules is also possible.”

The red-headed professor put her hands over her curvy hips, eyeing the crowd before her. “Now, there are few minutes left until the ceremony begins so please, make yourself presentable.”

Quiet chatter filled the room as the nervous students either wondered aloud about the Sorting Ceremony or tried to smoothen their wrinkled school robes. Mikleo adjusted his tie and in the corner of his eyes he caught Lailah redoing her braid with quick, skillful movements. A student next to the wizard, a lanky boy with bronze skin, tried to flatten his silver colored hair. It was a losing battle as the boy's hair had been unevenly cut and most of his fringe refused to stay down.

Eventually, the boy just scoffed, “Eh, screw this,” and stuffed his hands into the pockets of his trousers.

Merely seconds later Professor Maltran clapped her hands loudly and silence fell over the room in an instant. “Everybody ready?”

There were mutters and a few students nodded. “Excellent, let us make haste to the Great Hall.”

The crowd hurried after the Professor. Heart almost pounding in his ears, Mikleo didn't bother to scrutinize his surroundings closer as they walked across the entrance hall, only catching glimpses of the statues and portraits on the wide walls.

Maltran halted in front of two grand doors and Mikleo was certain he could hear loud chattering flowing from behind it. “Form a line – and please do it quickly,” she ordered. The students obeyed, a few of them stumbling, and soon Mikleo found himself between the messy haired boy and a blue-haired girl with droopy eyes.

Maltran gave them one last glance before turning around and pushing the doors open.

Mikleo's mouth dropped open. He could hear exclamations and gasps coming from behind him. “Damn,” the boy in front of Mikleo muttered under his breath.

Apart from two books regarding the history of Hogwarts, Mikleo didn't own books on the subject of the said school. It hadn't mattered how much he begged and asked, his mother would always refuse, claiming that he should experience the school and everything it offered first hand. “You wouldn't want to find out the culprit in your Auror mystery novels, would you?” she had always countered with a smile. Every time that had happened, Mikleo felt disappointed and slightly angry for being left in the dark but now that he was staring at the place with his very own eyes, a small part of him grumpily agreed with his mother.

The very first thing that drew the boy's attention was the ceiling. It was like gazing upon evening sky outside, with countless lit candles floating in the air. Four long tables, each of them placed under different banners, had rest of the student body seated upon and in the other end of the hall stood yet another, smaller table, which could only belong to the teachers. All eyes were on the newcomers as soon as the door had opened but Mikleo barely noticed, or acknowledged it and instead entertained himself by trying to figure out the spells needed to charm the ceiling. 

Professor Maltran signaled the first year students to halt. She walked in front of the teachers' table, the sound of her heels clicking echoing through the tall walls. When she stopped, it was only then when Mikleo noticed a ragged wizard hat placed onto a plain stool. The red haired teacher picked up the tattered hat without uttering a word.

Actually, the whole hall was dead silent, Mikleo realized merely a moment before the hat moved, one of its many holes opening wider like a mouth, and started singing. It sang about Hogwarts and its four Houses, about each houses' qualities and their history and when it finally quieted down, the whole hall erupted into loud cheers.

“When I call your name,” Maltran said loudly soon after the applauds quieted down, “you come here to have the Sorting Hat placed upon you until it has sorted you into one of the four houses.”

The professor took out her wand and with a flick of her wrist, a scroll appeared from thin air, unwrapping right before the audience's eyes. “Sindra Abell!” she cried out.

The girl behind Mikleo moved. When she passed him, Mikleo could see her droopy eyes were filled with dread. She sat onto the stool and Maltran placed the hat onto her head. It was silent but Mikleo swore he saw Sindra's eyes widen as soon as the hat touched her head.

About fifteen seconds later, the hat shouted, “RAVENCLAW!”

The second table from left erupted into applauds. Sindra stood up, casting an insecure look at Maltran before giving the hat to her and practically fleeing to the cheering table.

The same process repeated a few times and just when Mikleo was letting his thoughts wander, Maltran called for a familiar name, “Alisha Diphda!”

The young wizard watched as the blonde girl nervously made her way to the stool. Her face was paler than marble and there were beads of sweat forming on her forehead, yet Alisha stubbornly kept her emerald eyes on the hat like it was an opponent she was about to fight. The hat stayed silent for almost a minute before crying out, “HUFFLEPUFF!”

Alisha rushed to the table far right, the relief in her expression visible and Mikleo was certain he heard Sorey cheering somewhere behind him.

Little later on, Lailah joined Alisha in the Hufflepuff table and they soon were animatedly whispering to each other about something Mikleo had no chance to hear.

Time moved on and the line of first year students was getting shorter and shorter. But when the Sorting Hat, after four minutes of consideration, sorted Uno Rahdasi into Ravenclaw, Mikleo felt jittery and on verge of panicking. The intellectual part of his mind knew there was nothing to worry about, apart from accidentally tripping over his feet in front of the whole student body, so why it feel like his heart was about to burst right out of his chest?

It'll be okay, Mikleo desperately repeated the words in his mind, biting his lower lip hard enough to almost draw blood. It'll be okay... It'll be okay... After a moment of breathing deeply and sticking to his mantra, the fair-haired boy felt his pulse slow down and muscles relaxing.

“Mikleo Rulay!”

The boy in question jolted like he had been electrocuted. He approached the stool, holding his head high and eyes on the hat. As long as he ignored the rest of the hall, Mikleo knew he could keep his expression blank, despite his racing heart. His feet felt like jelly and Mikleo could only pray he wouldn't stumble over them.

Fortunately, no such thing happened and Maltran placed the Sorting hat onto Mikleo's head as soon as he sat down. It was heavy, several sizes too big for him and stank strongly of leather.

Few seconds later, Mikleo heard a voice inside his head. “Well, what do we have here?” a creaky voice pondered.

“The heir of Rulay family, correct? My, what a fine heritage you have there,” the hat stated. Mikleo felt little flutter of pride in his chest. “Yes... clearly you take after your mother, with a wit and such tremendous knowledge! You would do great things in Ravenclaw, I reckon.”

Mikleo wasn't surprised by the hat's observation, many of his relatives had uttered similar options. The corners of his lips tugged upwards.

“Hmm, except...”

The young wizard frowned and the smile vanished.

“You do not desire knowledge just for knowledge's sake, do you young heir? Pride and ambition are strong motivators and you're clever enough to know what information to absorb – much like your uncle... My, what a tough puzzle you are, lad. Can't say you're cunning, but your loyalty...” the hat trailed off and stayed silent, mulling over its decision.

Minutes had passed when the Sorting Hat talked again. “You're a boy with your eyes set tightly on a goal and I believe the house that will help you to reach it the best is... SLYTHERIN!”

The second table from right burst into cheers and in Mikleo's ears they sounded booming. He took the hat off and slid from the stool, mind hazy and his movements automatic.

“Welcome to Slytherin,” one of the older students greeted the young wizard with a smile as Mikleo took a seat next to Lunarre Hellion, another first year student who had been sorted little earlier than him.

“Thank you,” Mikleo mumbled shyly, still feeling adrenalin pumping in his veins, before turning his eyes back to the rest unsorted students.

0o0o0

“Sorey Shepherd!”

This was it.

The muggleborn practically jogged to the stool and for a brief moment he wished he could look even half as graceful as Alisha or as elegant and controlled as Mikleo had been when they approached the Sorting Hat. Instead, Sorey barely avoided tripping over his shoelaces and his mouth had been hanging open ever since they entered the Great Hall.

Sorey plopped onto the stool, making it creak under the sudden weight. He shoved the hat onto his head with shaking fingers and waited while holding his breath.

“Eager, aren't you lad,” a voice chuckled and Sorey almost fell from the stool.

“Hmm...” the Sorting hat hummed as Sorey's own mind swirled with questions like a tornado. “Lad, could you please quiet it down a bit? It's hard to concentrate in such a loud environment.”

Sorry, the boy thought sheepishly and tried his best to make his mind blank, face twisting in concentration. 

“Good, this is much better. Now let's see... Ah, a muggleborn, aren't you? That would explain few questions you had.”

Is that a bad thing, Sorey wondered. The thought made something cold sink in his stomach.

“Not at all, not even slightest, my boy,” the Sorting hat replied sharply. “But we're getting off the topic... Oh dear, you're quite a curious young lad, very interesting... Oh,” the hat paused. “You're brave one, coming here considering what happened to your mothe-”

Sorey tightened his grip over the edges of the stool as hurt swept over his chest like an icy wave.

“Ah,” the hat spoke softer than before, sounding almost regretful, and Sorey realized he couldn't quite grasp what he have had on his mind just now. “My apologies. Now where was I? Oh yes, I can see you have lots of courage in you – perhaps you would feel right at home with the Gryffindor,” the Sorting hat paused. “Although, same can be said about Hufflepuff, or perhaps even Ravenclaw. You studied diligently to understand a whole new world – it must have been a lot of work. This year we have had quite a few puzzles here,” the hat mused. Time ticked on and apart from few ohs and ahs, the hat didn't otherwise utter a single word.

“But what is this?” it finally spoke just when Sorey was getting fidgety, “My, I had to dig a little deeper but... Why, you're quite competitive – perhaps not as a sports player but we could make a quite a duelist out of you. Well, that settles it, I believe the best house for you is... GRYFFINDOR!”

It took a moment for the hat's words to register for the young wizard and for few extra seconds he just sat there, staring blankly in front of him until Professor Maltran cleared her throat. “Sorry!” Sorey managed to mumble before bolting towards the applauding table.

Few older students greeted him with friendly smiles and pats on the back. Sorey, still feeling restless from the sorting, managed only to thank them politely, keeping a smile plastered on his face. Things calmed just in time for Boris Strelka to be sorted into Ravenclaw. His identical twin brother Sergei who came after him, joined Gryffindors and received the same treatment as Sorey had.

There was only a handful students left. Fortunately, as Sorey's stomach was starting to grumble.

“Rose Wilk!”

Sorey watched as the red-haired girl skipped over to the stool, wearing the same grin she had while they traveled on the boat. The Sorting hat mulled over her house before finally, two minutes later, shouted, “SLYTHERIN!”

After Rose was Zaveid Wirukun's turn, who was a dark-skinned boy with an unevenly cut hair. He strutted to the stool, head held high and hands in pockets. When the Sorting Hat announced his house to be Gryffindor, Zaveid pumped his fist into the air victoriously, earning few chuckles from the other students.

When he took the seat next to Sorey, the muggleborn couldn't help but to ask about such bizarre reaction. “I had a bet with my Granduncle Moymor,” Zaveid explained with a shrug, “I said I would be a Gryffindor but he thought for sure I was Slytherin. That senile old bastard, it's like he doesn't know me... Oh well, he owes me fifteen galleons and a Firebolt Supreme for my thirteenth birthday now.” he paused, glancing Sorey's confused expression. “Oh, I was actually suppose to study here last year but a month before school started, I caught Scrofungulus when my family visited Luxembourg. Had to spend six months in St Mungo's Hospital and when the abscesses finally disappeared it was too late for me to start studying.”

Sorey was about to reply when another familiar name was called to the stool. Edna Yulind calmly walked towards the stool with a bored expression, similar to one she have had in the train. The hat barely touched her head before it cried, “SLYTHERIN!”

The muggleborn watched as Edna approached the table of her new house. She sat across Mikleo and Sorey was certain he didn't imagine the horrified expression on the fair-haired boy's face.

Dezel Yurlind was the last student to be sorted and he walked like a man on a mission, his expression hidden under his hair. It took the Sorting hat over three minutes to decided the boy's house, before finally shouting, “HUFFLEPUFF!”

When Dezel was finally seated by the Hufflepuff table, Professor Maltran grabbed the Sorting hat and vanished the stool and scroll with her wand. One of the professors, a blond man who sat in the middle seat stood up and absolute silence fell over the Great hall. “Students of Hogwarts,” his voice was booming and could be heard perfectly through the hall without any extra means. “As the headmaster of this school, I welcome all you, both new and old students, to Hogwarts for your next semester.”

He didn't look particularly delighted, Sorey thought as he propped his face on one hand. He had heard about Headmaster Georg Heldalf from Zenrus and Alisha. According to his guardian, Heldalf was a strict, serious man who wouldn't stand for any disorder in his school. Sorey could definitely see that. The man's whole presence was heavy and practically demanded to be obeyed and heard. “Before it is time for the feast, I would like to give a few pieces of advice for those of you who have just taken the first steps into their magical education. First of all, I truly hope you shall exhibit proper behavior and respect for our grand school and remember that disobedience here is not tolerated as it would be a great insult the founders of Hogwarts,” Heldalf paused and let his gaze fall over the four tables full of students. “For the next seven years, the most important thing in your lives is your education and I sincerely hope you take it seriously. During these years, your very future will be decided based on your academical achievements. I do not speak of these things merely just to scare you – instead, think of them as words of encouragement and something to think about when you're facing hardships during your time here. Now...” Heldalf slowly sat down, his stern eyes still looking over the student body. “I believe I have spoken enough and hopefully made at least some of you seriously consider my advice. Thank you.”

The students clapped politely, although few of them were also whispering quietly with unsure expressions. For a moment, Sorey too was unsure how to feel about the Headmaster's words but all thoughts about it disappeared as soon as the food suddenly appeared right in front of his eyes. “Awesome!” Zaveid gasped next to him. There were other surprised cries coming all over the hall, followed by few chuckles from the older students.

Sorey grabbed a plate and wasted no time to admire the heavenly smelling food. Soon his plate was filled with three different kinds of meat, a gigantic heap of mashed potatoes and boiled vegetables. The food was as good as it smelled and it took all of Sorey's willpower not to devour it like a hungry dog.

“Remember to save some room for the dessert!” one of the older students, a girl with glasses reminded little farther away. Keeping her words in mind, Sorey dropped his fork onto the table after practically inhaling the rest of his mashed potatoes. Few minutes later the food vanished as fast as it had appeared, leaving behind only clean bowls and plates. But before Sorey even had a chance to blink, the plates were full again, this time with desserts.

They even had vanilla ice cream, Sorey realized with delight and took a big scoop of his favorite dessert. It tasted better than any other vanilla ice cream he had ever eaten and it was close he wasn't moaning aloud.

“So uh... Sorey, was it?”

The mention of his name made the boy jerk his head upwards. Zaveid and few other first year Gryffindors were looking at him. “Yeah?”

“You got any other witches or wizards in your family?” a girl, Melody if Sorey remembered correctly, asked.

The boy shook his head.

“Had to be quite a shock then,” Sergei chuckled, “My father is a wizard but mom had no idea about magic until she met him. Bit of a surprise to her but she got over it, in fact I think mom was the most excited one when me and Boris got the Hogwarts letter.”

“And you Zaveid?” Sorey inquired, recalling their brief conversation during the sorting ceremony. 

“Got blood so pure unicorn's horn can't purify it,” the boy in question answered with a shrug and mouth full of apple pie. “Not that any of us really care anymore, my folks just like to keep up a tradition of marrying their cousins and whatnot and perhaps pop a few illegitimate kids along the way,” Zaveid spoke casually, like he was describing the weather. 

Sorey wasn't sure to reply to that, nor did the other two first year student. Thankfully, Zaveid either didn't notice it or he simply ignored it and asked, “Anyhow, are any of you into Quidditch?”

Sergei's head perked up and soon the two of them were locked in a conversation that mostly sounded like gibberish to Sorey and the boy resumed eating his ice cream contently.

Eventually, the desserts disappeared from the table and the Headmaster stood up again. Feeling full and sleepy, Sorey listened only with one ear the long list of rules Heldalf recited. The boy did feel a twinge of disappointment by the fact that the students were banned from entering the Forbidden Forest – that sounded like a place he wanted to explore.

“...dismissed,” Heldalf ended his speech and the sound of hundreds chairs creaking against the wooden floor snapped Sorey back from his thoughts.

“Gryffindor first year students, follow me!” a voice called out somewhere at the end of the long table. Next to Sorey, Zaveid grumbled, “Jeez, it's like they're herding us like cattle.”

Sorey shrugged, thinking he was just happy he didn't have to navigate through the castle alone, and approached the shouting prefect, who was a boy with bluish black hair. Zaveid soon joined them, along with Sergei.

“Is this all?” the prefect asked the girl next to him.

“...seven, eight, nine, yup we got them all.”

“Great,” the prefect waved towards the entrance, “It's been exciting days, hasn't it? So let's get some shuteye in the dorms.”

The two prefects chatted together like old friends as the younger students trailed after them shyly, most of them examining the castle interior. Sorey trembled with excitement when he thought about the many exploration adventures he was going to have. So much history, the boy thought as he eyed the paintings. He wondered if the paintings knew more about the castle, if they could share stories and pieces of the history of Hogwarts.

Eventually, they reached the top of one of the towers, Gryffindor tower, as the male prefect called it. It led them into a corridor and although they stood a little farther away, Sorey could see a huge painting hung onto the stone wall in the other end. The painting was easily about the size of an average adult man, with a portray of an over-weight woman.

The prefects stopped right in front of it. The woman in the painting watched them with interested eyes. “Password?” she asked, tilting her head slightly to right.

“Animagus,” the female prefect replied. The woman nodded and suddenly the whole painting swung aside, revealing a hole in the wall behind it.

“This is the Gryffindor common room,” the prefect explained as they all scrambled through the hole one by one. “As you may have noticed, you need a password to get here, which, for the time being, is Animagus. Tell it to Fat Lady and she'll let you in. No password, no access, so try to remember it.”

The Gryffindor common room was a welcoming and cozy looking room shaped in a perfect circle. However, fatigue was quickly creeping over Sorey, making his eyelids feel like lead. The common room seemed nice enough but what really interested him at the moment was the dorms – and the bed he was going to sleep in, to be specific. 

Fortunately, the prefects seemed to sense the first year students' fatigue, or perhaps they recalled feeling the same when they first arrived at Hogwarts, and wasted no time to herd them into the dorms.

“Check out these beds!” Zaveid exclaimed as soon as the door of their room opened. With one giant leap, he landed on one of them, the mattress bouncing under his weight as the boy laughed. 

“Thank God, they brought our trunks here,” Sergei pointed at the luggages lying at the end of each bed. “I was getting little worried during the feast.”

The boys chattered together as they changed their clothes, the conversation flowing easily to Sorey's relief. But all the excitement and nervousness was taking its toll on the trio and it didn't take long before sleep overtook them, one by one.

Sorey fell asleep with a smile on his face, eagerly waiting for the coming days.

0o0o0

Two weeks after the Start of the term feast, Mikleo was getting used to the life of a Hogwarts student.

Of course, it didn't mean it was any less stunning and fascinating as it had been when he first arrived on the school ground – if anything, learning more and more about Hogwarts made it more mysterious and appealing to the young wizard. It was an ancient castle, with history oozing from every nook and cranny and Mikleo's fingers had been itching to investigate the castle grounds more closely ever since the first night there. 

And of course, then there were the lessons, most of them leaving Mikleo craving for more. Even though he had been raised in a pureblood family, the experience of learning magic by actual teachers wasn't akin to anything the young wizard had known. He enjoyed the challenges that Transfiguration and Charms, which were taught by Professor Maltran and Alken, brought. The potion master, Professor Forton, had told him after the first lesson that he seemed to have natural talent for the subject. It had made pride swell in his chest.

Mikleo couldn't say he particularly cared for Herbiology, although he couldn't say if it was because of the subject itself, or because of Professor Pawan, whose odd personality and way of teaching left the young slytherin unsatisfied. The same problem arose with the teacher of Defense against Dark Arts, Professor Symonne, whose childlike fascination with dark magic made Mikleo somewhat agitated. It didn't help that the young woman seemed to be the target of many, many rumors, some more ridiculous than others. While his mother had taught Mikleo not to believe everything he heard, even he had to agree that the theory about Professor Symonne being actually a vampire from eastern Romania didn't really seem that far-fetched. 

And then there was History of Magic. A few seventh year students had mentioned how it used to be taught by a dwarf who, despite her unusual position as a professor in Hogwarts, was the most boring person ever and eventually left to focus on her career as a Horklump breeder. However, this was not the case with Professor Mayvin. As soon as the man had appeared in the classroom, Mikleo had been absolutely enchanted by the stories the old man told. Mayvin had been an explorer until an unfortunate encounter with a mountain troll left him with only one leg and incapable of traveling the world like he used to.

It didn't make the man seem any less cooler and Mikleo was certain when the man would teach about events that Mikleo was already familiar with, he would be able to spin and twist the same tale into something different – without changing the facts, of course.

So even though Mikleo was slowly memorizing the layout of Hogwarts and his timetable, getting used to the taste of the food and seeing the dorm as something akin to a home, it didn't make any day less interesting.

Of course, the lessons alone didn't make Hogwarts such interesting place, Mikleo thought as he shoved a piece of bacon in his mouth. Professors aside, the student body had also proven to be something to inspect closer.

As the heir of an ancient pureblood family, Mikleo couldn't say he had had much exposure to the muggle world, aside from a few times his uncle had decided to go on an adventure as he liked to say. But two train trips and one memorable, or traumatizing in Mikleo's opinion, visit to a muggle mall weren't enough for Mikleo to grasp the concept of the whole magic-less world.

Somebody slapped Mikleo's shoulder, causing the boy to jerk backwards and barely containing a surprised scream. “Morning, Miks!” a cheerful voice called next to him and soon the face of a red-haired girl popped up in his vision. The grin on Rose's face didn't falter under Mikleo's indignant glare.

“He barely reacts anymore,” Edna sighed across the table, shoveling scrambled eggs onto her plate with a mock forlorn expression. “How boring.”

Rose chuckled and stole a piece of bacon from Mikleo's plate, ignoring the latter's protest.

Rose Wilk wasn't like anybody Mikleo had ever met. Her brash personality and loud mannerism didn't quite fit her small and petite figure but, as Mikleo had come to learn quickly, Rose frankly didn't give rat's ass about others' option about her and was ready to fight anybody who disagreed. She and Edna were in the same dorm and got along like a house on fire. 

Rose had mentioned that she was technically a half-muggle but her current guardian Lafarga was a wizard. She didn't elaborate any further and no one had asked. However, Mikleo did know that Lafagra was also the guardian of Dezel Yurlin, a surly looking Hufflepuff who tended to trail after Rose whenever possible.

“So,” Rose yawned, pouring herself a cup of pumpkin juice, “What's first on today's menu?”

Mikleo's reply was instant, “History of Magic with Gryffindors.”

“Excellent, perfect class for a nap.” Rose glimpsed at Mikleo's face before laughing heartily, “I'm sorry, we can't all be interested in dusty old ruins and whatnot.”

“If we don't hurry,” Edna spoke suddenly, eyes on her watch, “we will miss the lecture about those dusty old ruins and whatnot.”

The young witch's words had an instant effect as Mikleo quickly finished his piece of toast and Rose, in her hurry, almost choked on the pumpkin juice.

Fortunately, the class 72 was on the third floor of the castle and the way there was relatively simple, apart from the Grand Staircase which, while a marvel even by magic's standards, caused more stress than necessary with their unpredictable movements.

The trio managed to reach the classroom one minute before the class started, as Edna helpfully announced when they took their seats – Mikleo in the front row by a window, Edna next to him and Rose in the back row corner, behind a tall Gryffindor boy who conveniently blocked her from the professor's vision most of the time.

Professor Mayvin limped in with two students in tow. “You two better set your alarms little earlier from now on,” the old man cackled. Sorey and Zaveid Wirukun were still panting when they collapsed on their seats, faces red but both sprouting relieved grins. 

“Good morning class!” professor Mayvin greeted loudly, placing few thick tomes onto his desk. “Everyone, get your quills and parchments out please. Today, before we jump into the life of Uric the Oddball and pondering about the man behind his jellyfish hat, we dedicate this lesson for the magical wonders around the British Isles. So...” the old man flicked his wand towards the blackboard. A piece of chalk fluttered into the air, touching the board lightly. “What magical wonders do you already know?”

In the corner of his eye, Mikleo noticed a girl raising her hand. “Yes, Ms. Ayn?”

“The Stonehenge.”

“Excellent, five points to Gryffindor! It's one of the wonders of the middle ages, as muggles tend to call it,” the hovering chalk started writing behind the professor, “But I believe it would be better if we leave the conversation about the Stonehenge for spring, when we plunge deep into the inner circles of Fairy politics and the fairy wing catastrophe of 942 that left Wiltshire void of any fauna for six weeks – it's a fine example though. Any more ideas?”

To Mikleo's surprise, Edna raised her hand. “The village of Queen Camel.” she answered with a side-glance to Mikleo.

“Ten points to Slytherin – I don't think any student has said that before!” Mayvin announced, surprise evident in his tone. “Can anyone of you tell what makes that place a magical wonder?”

Mikleo's hand shot up as fast as lighting, “It was where the Battle of Camlann took place, resulting in the death of King Arthur!”

“Like straight from a text book, excellent job Mr. Rulay” Mayvin laughed, “Indeed, the Battle of Camlann took place on that location in 537 when Merlin, King Arthur and his men fought against Mordred, the son of notorious Morgan le Fay, and a dark wizard himself. It was King Arthur's side who emerged from the battle victorious, but as Mr Rulay already mentioned, not without heavy costs. Unfortunately, that is all the proven facts I can tell you as there aren't many detailed records of this mysterious battle. In fact...” the old man's voice trailed off and his eyes settled on Mikleo.

“We know these facts for certain because of an explorer named Michael Rulay, whom we can thank for locating the battleground and retrieving King Arthur's Excalibur in 1901. If I recall correctly, he is your great-granduncle, Mr Rulay?”

The boy in question felt his cheeks flush at the attention as he nodded, “My uncle was named after him,” he mumbled

“Ah true,” Mayvin stroked his beard, “Met your uncle once while I was in Lapland and studying the history of local shamans... Anyways, a place where so many great legends had drawn their wands and swords for a war attracted the attention of all historians of wizarding world, as you may imagine, and Mr Rulay was voted to be the head director for the excavations. However, problems arose with the locals. You see, the village of Queen Camel was inhabited by muggles and having them around such a precious historical monument worried the wizards and witches. So it was proposed by Rulay to have the muggles removed from the area. The proposal was approved by the Minister of Magic and the villagers were moved by using memory alternation charms and-”

“That's horrible!” somebody suddenly cried out loudly enough to drown the professor's words. It was Sorey, his expression appalled and quill roughly digging into the parchment, ink bleeding all over it.

“Mr. Shepherd, please try to refrain from interrupting me,” Mayvin's voice was kind despite his reprimanding words.

“But... just driving those people out of their homes, that's disgusting!”

“It was necessary,” Mikleo blurted out and suddenly all eyes were on him. The tips of his ears were warming up, but the slytherin raised his head to meet Sorey's eyes.

The muggleborn wizard didn't look happy, “No it wasn't – the only thing that could justify a such thing would be if the muggles were in danger!”

“Technically they were – Muggles don't posses the knowledge how to properly take care of such an important place, who knows what they could have done to it, and to themselves,” Mikleo explained, trying his best to sound calm despite the annoyance bubbling in his stomach, like water about to boil.

“The muggles didn't do anything to the battleground for centuries!”

“They certainly did. You heard professor Mayvin, there are only a few records about the Battle of Camlann, what else could have destroyed the evidence other than uneducated muggles!”

“We're discussing an event that occurred over 1100 years ago!” Sorey gestured towards the blackboard, almost slapping Zaveid in the process. “Perhaps we should consider time to be a major factor before pointing fingers at the muggles!”

“In an event that consumes gigantic amounts of magic, time rarely has a true impact on such an environment,” the fair-haired boy argued back. “For example, when a division of Spartan wizards engaged in battle with two Hungarian Horntails and their brood, they used so much magic that specialists are still unlocking wards from that area!” in the deepest part of Mikleo's mind, a voice bitterly added, but you wouldn't have known that, would you?

He did know better than to voice his opinion aloud.

Apparently that still didn't satisfy the muggleborn wizard, “But what about local flora and fauna, can you really claim that they haven't had their share of guilt? And what about weather conditions, are you telling me that, let's say, a thunderstorm won't affect the magic of that area?”

Nostrils flaring and hands clenching, Mikleo felt frustration gnawing in the corner of his mind. There was no reason for the other boy to take this so personally – chances of family bonds with the place were slight and Mikleo was certain this was the first time Sorey had even heard about this event. So either he was a fool who didn't know what he was spouting or he was painfully naïve, and Mikleo had no idea which was worse. 

Professor Mayvin opened his mouth, most likely to order the two boys to stop, but Mikleo was faster, “I admit that such compounds might have had their share of impact upon the remains of the battle, but that doesn't mean the muggles were completely innocent. I can't understand why you're so upset about this, the muggles were relocated, not killed – and it's not like the muggles care nor even understand the utter significance of such discovery-”

“Yes they do!” Sorey shouted and for the first time, Mikleo could see sparkles of real anger flickering in his expression. “The legends of King Arthur and the round table, Merlin, Excalibur and the Holy Grail, the muggles know of all these things! There are countless movies, television shows and video games based on them, so many children grow up hearing about them and even today there are highly educated muggles studying the legends of King Arthur!” the boy's voice had risen with every word and the last one practically echoed in the classroom.

Mikleo was vaguely aware of the many pairs of eyes that were focused on him, waiting for his reaction.

But none came.

He tried to think of a rebuttal, he truly did, but every time Mikleo tried to look in Sorey's direction, all words died on his tongue. The previous annoyance dissolved in an instant, leaving behind something cold and heavy that fogged Mikleo's mind like a cloud before rain. 

He had made people angry before. His mother said it was because of his lack of tact and his uncle claimed that Mikleo needed to hone his social skills. But the simple truth was that Mikleo's dislike for incorrect information tended to clash with the fact that many people hated being corrected. People, almost all of them other children his age, had called him stuck up and know-it-all to the point when those words ceased to mean something to him. 

Mikleo could handle anger and irritation.

But the look on Sorey's face was neither of them.

“Before you start questioning the limits of muggles' understanding, perhaps you should actually learn about them,” Sorey spat, “Or would that be too lowly for a person of your status?”

Mikleo went absolutely still, feeling like ice had been injected into his veins. Sorey's spiteful words were like needles, each piercing mercilessly through Mikleo, and the pure, unfiltered disgust oozing from the muggleborn boy's features smothered any chance of intelligent retort. There were tears, of anger or something else he didn't know, prickling behind his eyes but Mikleo, clinging onto the last shreds of his pride, would rather curse himself than let them fall.

“Okay, I believe that is enough about the subject,” professor Mayvin declared louder than necessary. He stepped between Sorey and Mikleo, efficiently breaking their eye contact and Mikleo felt torn between relief and humiliation. “So, any more ideas? Ah, Mr. Strelka, what do you have in mind?”

The lessons continued normally, like nothing had happened, but Mikleo could barely concentrate. He was torn between nursing his broken pride and quenching the wave of emotions raging inside his chest. What did Sorey Shepherd know, he thought darkly, hands shaking. Sorey was just some muggleborn boy who would never fully understand the wizarding world because of his upbringing – he hadn't been raised in magical environment, hadn't been exposed to magic until mere months ago! How dare he question Mikleo's intelligence and family when Sorey couldn't grasp even a quarter of what it meant to be a wizard.

Mikleo knew his thoughts were treading into a dangerous area but the tide of emotions inside of him drowned any whispers of rationality. He recalled their time in Hogwarts Express and how Sorey had admitted his interest on History of Magic. Back then Mikleo had felt sparks of curiosity and excitement over the other boy's admittance. Perhaps they could be friends, he had though giddily.

Sorey's disgusted expression stayed in Mikleo's mind, like it had been branded into his vision and his words, spoken with a tone that left Mikleo feeling dirty and worthless, kept ringing in his ears like a background noise to Mayvin's lecture. He bit his lips and focused on writing the birth date of Uric the Oddball. If somebody noticed him blinking more than necessary, they didn't comment on it. 

Mikleo had thought wrong.


	2. Chapter 2

 

Sorey was fairly certain somebody had cursed him.

 

“Boy, you're gonna be late if you don't hurry!” Gramps' voice boomed from downstairs, so loudly it almost made the photos on the walls rattle.

 

I'm fully aware of that, Sorey thought, panicked “Just a moment, I just gotta...” his voice trailed off, too focused on emptying his bookshelf of muggle fantasy novels. Goblin hooted indignantly as one of the books hit his cage.

 

Sorey liked to think he was a pretty punctual guy. At school, he was rarely late from classes, if you didn't count the first few weeks in the first year when he had been prone to admiring the castle without watching where he was going. Outside the school, he always double checked the time of his appointments, whether it was a meeting between friends or something more serious, like a dentist or hospital visit.

 

But there was something, something very bizarre about the September 1st, that made the young wizard always run around like a headless chicken and miss his breakfast just so he wouldn't be late from Hogwarts Express.

 

In the first year, he had mistakenly thought the train left at 12:00 pm, and set his alarm accordingly. It had been thanks to Zenrus, who realized almost too late that his ward hadn't woken up, that he managed to reach the train in time along with Alisha, who had loyally been waiting for him despite almost being late herself.

 

The next year Sorey did remember the correct time but had forgotten the whereabouts of his wand, which had led to a near freak out merely twenty minutes before the Hogwarts Express left the station. He had eventually found it in his drawer, with a sock tied around it for a reason Sorey could no longer remember.

 

In the third year, it hadn't been Sorey's fault. He had packed all his things the day before, diligently checking that his books and other stuff were in the right places thrice before going to sleep. He had set his alarm half an hour earlier than necessary and drank sleeping drought to guarantee a good 9 hours of sleep. Everything had been fine, even if he and the Diphdas had to use a portkey to travel to London as the Floo Network had been temporarily cut off from their street due to an unfortunate incident with Mrs. Marle's fireplace. Sorey's hadn't minded it, in fact he had been excited to finally use a portkey.

 

His opinion had quickly changed when the portkey teleported the group to a small fishing village by the coast of Ireland and refused to work after that. That was also when Sorey and Alisha learned that Mr. Diphda hadn't actually lost his left little finger in a bar fight but rather when he had been drunk eighteen year old boy who figured that apparating in such state was a brilliant idea. He had been deathly afraid of apparating ever since. After a good while of panicking between the two students and one father, Mrs Diphda, who was a squib, finally took pity on them and marched to the village. Fifteen minutes later she had come back with a woman from the Portkey Office who profusely apologized for the mix up with the portkeys.

 

The Hogwarts Express had been about to leave when the two frantic third year students eventually found themselves at the King's Cross Station. Zaveid still occasionally liked to bring it up with a teasing chuckle.

 

Some celestial being had probably taken pity on him after the third year fiasco as nothing happened next year – no missing objects or books, the floo network worked perfectly and no other magical incidents occurred whatsoever. Of course, at the time he had already been convinced of being cursed and spent the whole train trip jittery – even Alisha had been quieter than normal.

 

The fourth year turned out to be an exception to the rule, as last year another incident happened, this time not Sorey's fault either no matter what Gramps said. So perhaps Sorey had forgotten to lock Goblin's cage, but it wasn't his fault the owl had decided to go on an adventure. In the end there had been nothing else to do but leave Goblin behind and hope that he would later show up in Hogwarts. The next day, Goblin returned but refused to deliver any letter for two weeks, offended that Sorey hadn't waited for him.

 

And now? The clock was ticking yet Sorey was still creating chaos in his room, all because of a small package he had hidden from Zenrus' all seeing gaze, only to forget where he had put it.

 

The brunet's hand hit the back of the now empty shelf just as Zenrus once again called out from the first floor. “I know, I know!” Sorey shouted back, hands in his messy hair as he frantically tried to recall the events of that day when his order from Pendrago's Oddly Occult came. It had been one of those rare days when Gramps had been out of the house, in the Diagon Alley's yearly summer market. The date hadn't been coincidence, as Sorey had taken every measurement to make sure his guardian wouldn't know about this package.

 

“I put it on my bed,” Sorey mumbled to himself, eyes on the said piece of furniture, now barely visible under all the books and scraps of parchment settled on it. In his mind, the teen could see the small package, about the size of his fist, sitting there. But then he had heard the door open and in a fit of panic, practically hurled the package into...

 

Sorey jolted and hurriedly turned around, almost tripping over his open trunk, and walked across his room in two long strides. He opened his wardrobe and sat in front of it. There was a pair of worn out sneakers in the way and the teen hurriedly tossed them aside, a lone ice skate and a jacket that had fallen off its hangar soon following after. With them out of the way, Sorey reached out and pulled a wooden box from the depths of the wardrobe.

 

He peeped inside and almost let out a whoop of joy, relief washing over him like a waterfall.

 

“Sorey!” Zenrus shouted once again, this time voice louder and more urgent.

 

The teen in question picked up the package and quickly shoved the box back to its hiding place. “I'm coming!” he yelled back, throwing the little bundle into his trunk. “Let's go Goblin,” Sorey added as he picked up the owl's cage with one hand and dragged the trunk with another.

 

“I'm ready!” the Gryffindor exclaimed as he descended the stairs, the wooden floor creaking under his weight. He peeked into the living room, where his Gramps was comfortably sitting on his armchair with an ancient looking tome on his lap. His left leg was propped up on an ottoman and wrapped with bandages – the result of a loose, angry runespoor Zenrus had been taking care of for an old colleague.

 

“Is there something I can do before leaving?” Sorey asked, eyeing the bandaged leg with a frown. “Do you want another book? Snacks? I think we still have some cherry biscuits in the cupboard...”

 

“For Merlin's sake boy, the clock is ticking and the Express won't wait for you!” the old man snapped, “I'll be fine, Sorey – I may be old but it takes more than a venomous snake to bring me to my deathbed.”

 

“I know, I know – just checking,” Sorey laughed, adjusting his grasp on Goblin's cage, “Well, I'll be going now-”

 

“Ah, just one last thing,” Zenrus extended his right arm towards Sorey, index finger pointing at the boy's trunk. Just by moving his finger, Zenrus made the trunk hover mid air. “There, that should help you a bit.”

 

“Thanks Gramps!” Sorey released his grip on the heavy container, “See ya on Christmas!”

 

“Just go already!”

 

The teen obliged and practically ran outside, his trunk trailing after him.

 

Falkewin Hillside was a tiny suburb located somewhat near London, inhabited by elderly wizards and witches who wished for a place to spend their retirement days in peace – which was why Sorey could stroll around with a levitating trunk following behind him. It was much like those perfect muggle suburbs with giant houses and white fences Sorey had seen on tv as a kid, although he highly doubted those muggle suburbs didn't quite have as many almost sentient vegetations as they did.

 

The Diphdas lived in a light blue house which was probably one of the bigger houses in the area, surrounded by a large yard filled with flowers, herbs, bushes and even a tiny vegetable plot – thanks to Mr Diphda who was an avid gardener of both normal and magical plants. As Sorey approached the house, he could see Alisha standing by the door, fidgeting anxiously.

 

Her posture relaxed noticeably when her light green eyes landed on her best friend. “Finally!” she exclaimed, humor dancing in her eyes despite the hurry and the pair went inside, “So what was it this time? One of your books? Don't tell me you lost your wand again.”

 

Sorey chuckled, “Something like that,” he stated with a sheepish grin, hoping his childhood friend wouldn't notice his lack of proper answer. He could almost hear Zaveid's voice in his head, telling what a hopeless liar he was. Instead, he changed the subject, “So your parents are both working today?”

 

Fortunately, Alisha bought it. “Yeah, dad has been extra busy for past few weeks, something about a crisis in the Ministry – and mom got a letter last night saying that somebody broke into the apothecary. So this year, it's going to be just you and me!” she declared as they entered the living room.

 

The Diphdas' living room was big and spaciously decorated, the furniture all matching together with their pale color and soft fabrics. The walls were empty, apart from one landscape painting of snowy mountains hanging behind the sofa. It was the perfect opposite of what Sorey and Gramps' own house was like, where all the pieces of furniture were from different periods of time, the massive bookshelves filled with tomes bigger than Sorey's head covered every bit of the living room walls and Gramps' ancient Pensieve served as a rather unstable stand for the television.

 

Zenrus had gotten the muggle objects, the television and a computer, as soon as he had become Sorey's official guardian to make the boy feel slightly more comfortable in the middle of such strange and alien place. It was a touching gesture, and something Sorey would never forget.

 

He also had to admit that it was amusing to see his pure-blood friends' reactions to such technology – as according to Lailah, the wizarding world tended to lag few decades behind when it came to muggle technology. During the summer break between their second and third year, Alisha had gotten absolutely addicted to an afternoon soap opera reruns and practically lived in Zenrus' household for weeks, Lailah joining her when she came to visit. Then there had been the Christmas break the year before, when Zaveid had stayed over for three days. That's when Sorey had introduced him to the Internet – one the greatest mistakes he had ever done in his short life.

 

Sorey approached the fireplace and grabbed a small white jar from the shelf next to it. “Prefects first,” he said with a teasing smile, offering the jar to Alisha.

 

The tips of the girl's ears flushed red, “Oh, shut it,” she said, grabbing a handful of floo powder from the jar.

 

“It's going to be a busy year for you, being both the prefect and seeker for Hufflepuffs,” Sorey replied, “I can't say I envy you.”

 

Alisha gave him a disbelieving look as she carefully dragged her trunk by the fireplace. Her cat, Aifread, was happily snoozing in his carriage on top of the heavy container, undisturbed by the noise, “Sorey, you do realized I'm not the one here who has ten N.E.W.T level classes and Ghoul Studies as extra curriculum!”

 

“Nine classes,” the other teen corrected, “I got an A from Astronomy, remember? Professor Guinevere only allows those with E or O into his class.”

 

“Oh, and that's going to stop you from an occasional trip to the Astrology tower by yourself?” Alisha asked with a pointed look, hands on her hips.

 

“What can I say? Filling empty star charts is really relaxing.”

 

“Sometimes I wonder if I should worry about you,” Alisha muttered, mostly to herself while climbing into the fireplace. She inhaled deeply, one hand resting on her luggage and other extended in front of her. “King's Cross Station!” the Hufflepuff cried out as she opened her fist. As soon as the floo powder hit the stone surface, green flames rose from under the girl and swallowed her.

 

In a blink of an eye, the flames retreated and Alisha was gone. Sorey wasted no time and pulled his own trunk, which had stopped levitating as soon as it had entered the house, into the fireplace, ignoring the little remains of green fire under his feet.

 

When the trunk and Goblin's cage were positioned securely, Sorey grabbed a fistful of floo powder from the jar. He left the porcelain container on the coffee table and stepped into the fireplace. “King's Cross Station!” he shouted and released the powder.

 

Sorey was blinded by emerald green and a loud whoosh sound filled his ears. It lasted merely seconds and when the green color vanished from his vision, Sorey could see Alisha just few feet away tapping her foot impatiently. Her trunk had been loaded onto a metallic luggage cart and there was an empty one besides it.

 

“You're just in time,” the old woman, who was in charge of the floo network in the station, guffawed by her desk. “The Express leaves in seven minutes, so you better get those young legs of yours working!”

 

“Thanks, we will!” Sorey replied as he loaded his luggage onto the cart. When Goblin's cage was firmly on the cart, the pair of students bolted out.

 

The crowd in the station was both a blessing and a curse – it would be easier to go unnoticed through the metallic ticket box between the platforms nine and ten, but it also meant dodging the many people waiting for their train, and considering their heavy luggage, it wasn't going to be easy.

 

The office with the floo was fairly close to the entrance to the platform 9 ¾, hidden to the muggles with a charm. Sorey tightened his grip on the cart and started running, Alisha following closely behind him. The sounds of their footsteps drowned under the screeching of a leaving muggle train and somewhere above them, an announcer reported that one of the long distance trains would arrive fifteen minutes late.

 

A balding man in a crisp suit suddenly reached for his ringing phone, halting in front of Sorey. The teen let out a squawk and hastily pulled his cart to the left, Goblin hooting indignantly as his cage leaned heavily to right. “Sorry!” Sorey shouted, to the man or to the owl, he wasn't quite sure.

 

Passing through the ticket box was easy as the pair had done it enough times to know when to run. There were only a few people on the platform, all of them relatives who had escorted their children to the station. Sorey and Alisha made a beeline to the nearest doorway and started unloading their luggage off the carts at a record speed.

 

A station worker approached them, “Oi, you two, you can leave those there!” he shouted, frantically waving his hand towards the carts the pair of students had used. “Just get on the blasted train already!”

 

“Thank you!” Alisha yelled back, yanking her trunk after her into the train. Sorey followed her hastily when suddenly, he stumbled on the stairs, letting out a shocked yelp as he fell onto Alisha's trunk, knocking air out of him. Goblin, whose cage he had been holding, let out a screech of rage as his cage went flying and all Sorey could was watch in horror.

 

Miraculously, Alisha, who was the Hufflepuff's seeker for a reason, reached for the cage just in time and brought it against her chest. For a long time, neither of the students spoke, both catching their breaths – and in Sorey's case, trying to force his heart rate calm down.

 

The door behind them shut with a slam and the Hogwarts Express let out a shrill scream, one they both knew to signal that the train had began its long journey

 

Suddenly, Alisha erupted into a quiet laughter, pressing her face against Goblin's cage as her shoulders shook slightly. “Y-Your face just now...” she managed to say between her relieved giggles.

 

Sorey couldn't help but to snicker as well. Their laughing session was interrupted by Goblin, who started hooting angrily at the pair. “Oh, I'm sorry Gob Gob,” Sorey cooed to his owl, taking the cage from Alisha. “You're not hurt, are you?”

 

Goblin merely glared Sorey venomously with his big amber eyes, which, knowing the owl, meant he was in a good condition.

 

“Alisha, Sorey, over here!” a familiar voice called out from far left. The students in question turned their heads towards the direction of the voice.

 

Lailah stood in front of one of the many compartments little farther away from Sorey and Alisha, still wearing a blouse and jeans, waving her hand with obvious relief plastered on her face.

 

“Hi Lailah,” Sorey greeted after he and Alisha managed to gather their luggage and approached the girl. “Zaveid,” he added when he saw the dark-skinned teen over Lailah's shoulder, slouching lazily on a red seat with a wolfish smirk.

 

“We saw you from the window,” Zaveid cackled as soon as they all were seated, still grinning. “You both looked like a werewolf was snapping at your heels!”

 

“It was quite worrying,” Lailah piped up with a frown. “Seriously Sorey, what was it this year?”

 

Three pairs of eyes were suddenly on him and the teen felt slight panic creeping up from his spine. “Eh, you know,” he mumbled, scratching his cheek and eyes on the window, “I forgot where I put some... supplies,” he eventually said, eyes meeting with Zaveid's. Thankfully, the other teen seemed to realize what he was trying to say, judging by the way the ruby eyes widened slightly.

 

“Supplies?” Lailah repeated, curiosity clearly peaked. “What supplies are you talking abou-”

 

“Eh, does that really matter?” Zaveid stated hurriedly, voice loud enough to drown the rest of Lailah's question. “The most important thing is that they made it, since I don't think it would have looked good for our little Miss Prefect to be late!” he paused before turning to Sorey, “Speaking of which... guess who is the new Gryffindor boy prefect?”

 

The teen in question didn't even hesitated with his reply, “It's Sergei, isn't it?”

 

“And that's ten points to Gryffindor!”

 

“I was honestly kinda surprised about that,” Lailah claimed – apparently content with changing the subject, to Sorey's relief, “I thought Sorey would have made an excellent prefect.”

 

“I don't know about that...” the brunet trailed off, scratching the back of his head.

 

“Yeah no, Heldalf would never allow that,” Zaveid barked out a laugh, “Just how many times do you think Tintagel has caught Sorey wandering around the castle after curfew? Wanna bet the old man has started slacking on the job because he knows the chances of Sorey getting detention are even higher than Normin Knockers fucking up their chance at getting the World cup?”

 

“Oh please Zaveid, you know fully well that Oysh wouldn't do that.”

 

“See!?” Zaveid exclaimed triumphantly, pointing his thumb in Sorey's direction, “He's even calling Tintagel by his first name!”

 

“That reminds me, I actually have to go now,” Alisha spoke suddenly as she rose from her seat, “The older prefects are holding a meeting for the new ones in few minutes.”

 

“How long does that take?” Lailah inquired.

 

The other Hufflepuff merely shrugged, “I'm not quite sure... We'll probably go over our duties and such, so... maybe an hour? See you guys later!” She slid open the compartment door, giving a slight wave with her free hand before disappearing into the corridor, footsteps drowning under the sound of the train's machinery.

 

“So...” Sorey let his voice drawl, looking at his two other friends, “How did your O.W.Ls go?” the question had burned the back of his throat for few weeks, ever since the results came, but he had managed to hold off sending any letters inquiring about those. After all, he would find out when they returned to Hogwarts.

 

Zaveid let out a long groan filled with anguish like Sorey had just asked him to spend their weekends at the Hogwarts library. “Do we really need to talk about those?”

 

“Well, we promised not to during the vacation, as you so graciously begged us to do so,” Lailah chirped with an amused tone. She dug the slightly crumpled letter from a small purse she had beside her. “I think I did fairly well. Even managed to actually pass Herbology!” she announced proudly while passing the paper to Sorey.

 

The teen scanned the paper, “I told you there was nothing to worry about your Charms grade,” he stated with a smile, green eyes looking at the big black O next to the said subject.

 

“I don't wanna hear that from the guy who hexed himself with Unsleeping Curse just so he could cram all seven years worth of potion knowledge in three days!” Lailah huffed, crossing her arms over her chest. “I have never seen poor Madame Marlind look so distraught when we dragged your sorry behind to the hospital wing after the exam.”

 

Sorey winced, cringing at the memory, it admittedly hadn't been his brightest idea. “Well, it actually worked; I got an E in potions!”

 

For a moment, neither of the pure-blood students spoke and merely gaped at Sorey, faces twisted with disbelief. He couldn't really blame them though; Sorey's lack of skills in potions was a well known fact among the other sixth year students who tended not to sit anywhere near him during the potion classes.

 

But perhaps the true tragedy was that Sorey tried – Professor Forton knew it, all other students knew it and even the Headmaster himself knew it. He always gave his full attention to Professor Forton's lectures and little over a third of all of his school notes consisted of potion memos, but when he actually had to make a potion, it was like giving a troll a cauldron, ingredients and a wand and expecting it to brew perfect Felix Felicis – hopeless and bound to end in chaos, with also a chance of making those standing within five meters of the cauldron grow feathers and tentacles when the potion accidentally exploded.

 

It was Zaveid who broke the silence as he threw his head back and laughed gleefully. “Oh man, I can't wait to see the look on people's faces when you waltz into the potions classroom – no offense, of course.”

 

“None taken,” Sorey shrugged, grinning sheepishly, “Professor Forton actually sent me a letter telling me that my score on the potions caused a minor chaos in W.E.A because apparently the score gap between my written and practical exams made them suspect I had managed to actually cheat.”

 

“You didn't get in any trouble, did you?” Lailah inquired, looking rather concerned.

 

Sorey shook his head and briefly wondered if he should feel even the tiniest bit humiliated, “Professor Forton managed to convince them that such a result wasn't really that surprising and that I hadn't managed to actually get around their anti-cheating charms.”

 

The concerned glint faded from Lailah's eyes, “That's too bad,” she declared, a mischevious smile tugging at the corner of her pink lips, “Perhaps then you could have given few pointers to Zaveid.”

 

The Gryffindor in question groaned, burying his face into his hands, “Merlin's sagging balls... Woman, it's been two fucking years – even Professor Pawan stopped calling me 'Mr. Zandrake' after a year.”

 

Sorey shifted into a better position, muscles relaxing as he stared outside the window, half-listening to Zaveid and Lailah's bickering – which was a common occurrence in their small group of friends.

 

It was good to be back, the brunet thought, smiling to himself as he gazed at the greenish fields passing outside the window. Fall had come early that year and there was more oranges and reds rather than greens in Sorey's vision. It made him feel rather melancholy, perhaps because he had always enjoyed summer the most out of all the seasons.

 

Hours passed by in a similar fashion as they tended to every year, slowly yet it always felt like the sun set in the horizon much earlier than it should. By the time there was only half an hour left, the sky was a mixture between scarlet red and warm orange, much like the nature during autumn.

 

“Hey, you still got any Bertie's Beans?” Zaveid asked as he and Sorey left the compartment. They were heading to the toilets to change into their uniforms while the girls stayed in the compartment – the windows by the compartments were big and both Alisha and Lailah refused to change anywhere near Zaveid after a certain incident during their second year, which he still claimed to have been an accident. Unfortunately, no one really knew what was going on in Zaveid's mind so there was no proof if he had really heard any strange sounds coming from the compartment or not when they were twelve.

 

“I thought you didn't like them?” Sorey wondered aloud but nevertheless dug an opened pack of the brightly colored candy from the back pocket of his jeans.

 

“I am so hungry I don't give a fuck whether or not I'll get a handful of ones that taste like ass again,” Zaveid declared, eyeing the small pile of sweets inside the packet.

 

“Yeah, I still can't quite believe you.”

 

“Sorey, my man, once you have attended the luxurious Christmas party of the esteemed Wirukun clan as many times as I have, you will know what ass taste like – both literally and figuratively,” Zaveid popped a bright red bean into his mouth. A student, already dressed in her school uniform and looking young enough to be a first year, turned to stare at the pair with a horrified expression. When her fearful eyes met Zaveid's, the young girl hurriedly passed them, almost tripping on air in her haste.

 

Zaveid made a face, “Ugh, this one tastes like rhubarb.”

 

Sorey let out a deep sigh. After knowing the other Gryffindor for years, not to mention sharing a dorm room with, he had learned that Zaveid's brain to mouth filter most likely existed only in Lailah's reflection on Mirror of Erised, as the dark-skinned teen once joked. She was the only one left who at least put some effort in teaching Zaveid self-restraint, which unsurprisingly fell to deaf ears most of the time.

 

Sorey himself had just settled on letting his dormmate run his mouth, only making his displeasure known when Zaveid got either too crude or uncomfortable to others – which, needless to say, wasn't uncommon occurrence.

 

Suddenly, there was an extra weight on Sorey's shoulders as Zaveid threw his free arm around them, bringing their bodies closer together. “So anyway,” his voice was reduced to a quiet mutter. “You mentioned something about supplies little earlier today, did you by any chance mean...?”

 

“Yeah,” Sorey's voice was as silent as his friend's, green eyes quickly scanning their surroundings. Since there was only a little time left before the train would reach Hogsmeade, there was a moderate amount of students scurrying in the narrow corridor but almost none of them paid attention to the pair of sixth year students, apart from few very tiny looking ones. “I only managed to take a quick peek but it did match the description.”

 

Suddenly, there was a big hand ruffling his chocolate colored hair roughly and Sorey couldn't help but let out a surprised squawk. “You know what this means, right?!” Zaveid's red eyes were twinkling with excitement. “Remind me to pay my half when we get to the school.”

 

“It wasn't that expensive,” Sorey stated as he tried to swat the hand on his head away, “I think the bigger problem was that the worker there got quite suspicious. Apparently it isn't all that common a thing people buy and he kept asking all these questions...”

 

“I can imagine, those Pendragons are a paranoid bunch about their shit,” Zaveid nodded, “I would have gotten it myself but, you know, old family feuds and 'no Wirukuns allowed' sign on their door kinda shot that one down pretty quickly.”

 

“Oh yeah that reminds me, you never told me what exactly that was about.”

 

“It's a funny story actually, started when my great-great-great grandaunt was betrothed to the eldest son of then matriarch of the Pendrago family. You see, one of the cousin of my great-great-great grandaunt, a notorious lover of moonshine and a friend to all moose, thought it would be a great idea to-” Zaveid suddenly stopped, eyes looking straight ahead and a wolfish smile slowly blooming on his face. “Well, look who is over there!” the tone he spoke with had that certain kind of delight that didn't bode well.

 

Nevertheless, Sorey followed his friend's gaze, a groan almost escaping from his mouth when green eyes landed on a certain person by the toilets. There was a small crowd as other students were lined up to change to their uniforms, but after years of being acquaintances, even Sorey could easily tell apart the sulking form of Dezel Yurlin from a distance.

 

“Zaveid...” Sorey started just as the other Gryffindor gave one last pat on his shoulder before sauntering towards the Hufflepuff. Apparently Zaveid had forgotten how he spent the whole train trip back to King's Cross Station with giant antlers sprouting from his head mere months ago, after being in this exact same situation.

 

Shaking his head slightly, Sorey trailed after his friend, hoping they wouldn't traumatize too many first year students.

 

“Why hello there Dezel!” Zaveid exclaimed loudly, arms wide open and sounding like he was greeting a long lost best friend from his childhood.

 

The teen in question snapped his head towards the source of the voice, disgruntled expression souring considerably. “Wirukun,” he growled, right hand creeping suspiciously closer to the back pocket of his pants, where he undoubtedly kept his wand.

 

Zaveid seemed to realize this as well, as he threw his left arm over Dezel's shoulder, bringing the shorter one snugly against his side. “So how did your summer go? Had fun brooding and... doing whatever you brooding people do in your free time?”

 

Dezel gritted his teeth together, “Get off me,” he snarled.

 

The students around them were sending worried glances at the pair and Sorey wondered if he should intervene before one of the younger students panicked and went to alert a member of the train staff. But before he could act, one of the toilet doors opened with a loud creak and silver hair appeared in the corner of Sorey's vision – and after years of staring at that same shade of icy silver hair, he could recognize Mikleo Rulay from miles away.

 

Sorey could feel his heart beat just little bit faster, pulse quickening as he turned around to face the Slytherin. The shorter teen, dressed in his black robes, stared at the three other sixth year students with fair eyebrows raised high enough to hide under his thick hair.

 

Sorey felt his mouth break into a small, polite smile, “Hello Mikleo,” he greeted, straightening to his full height almost subconsciously, a habit Sorey picked up in third year when puberty became an everyday problem and he seemed to grow an inch every other night.

 

“Sorey,” Mikleo's voice was carefully neutral as he slightly raised his head up to look the other teen directly into his eyes, annoyance evident in his expression. Sorey couldn't help but to let out an amused huff, aware how Mikleo absolutely loathed their height difference – which had been quite the reverse during their first two years in Hogwarts, something that the Slytherin had clearly taken joy in back then.

 

“This is gonna be good,” Sorey heard Zaveid whisper loudly behind his back.

 

“Don't talk to me,” Dezel's tone was a mixture of a growl and whisper.

 

There were about a dozen pairs of eyes glued onto them, accompanied by low, unsure murmurs as the crowd around Sorey seemed to sense the sudden change in the atmosphere. There was one student, whom Sorey knew to be a fifth year Gryffindor, leaning against the wall and regarding the commotion with interested eyes, apparently already aware of the reputation Sorey and Mikleo had gathered over the years.

 

“So...” Sorey let the word roll on his tongue, shifting his weight from one foot to another, “Congrats on becoming a new prefect,” he let his eyes wander to the silver emblem pinned onto the other's robes.

 

“Thank you,” Mikleo spoke stiffly, voice tinged with pride but his expression was sharp like a hawk's. “Can't say the same to you, unfortunately.”

 

Laughing awkwardly, the brunet scratched his chin, “Yeah, I don't think I got what it takes to qualify for that...”

 

Mikleo hummed nonchalantly and Sorey had no idea if it meant agreement or not. Crossing his hands over his chest, the Gryffindor decided it didn't really matter, as he was full aware of the actual subject they were avoiding. It was a familiar dance, an awkward, sometimes spiteful yet familiar dance they had been a part of ever since the first year, when the rivalry between Sorey and Mikleo suddenly bloomed into a war between wits.

 

A few seconds passed before Mikleo eventually let out an annoyed huff, “Let's cut out the pleasantries, shall we?” he hissed, violet eyes full of stubbornness that could just barely hide the Slytherin's curiosity. He was leaning towards Sorey, pose almost hostile.

 

“Fine,” Sorey hummed, “Which one should go first?”

 

“Let's leave the best for last, shall we?” There was a smug smirk on Mikleo's pale face, “So, the stage is all yours, Sorey.”

 

Sorey could hear Zaveid cackle behind his back but chose to ignore it. “Sure,” he said, cracking his knuckles slightly, straightening his back. “Four Os, six Es and one A.”

 

“Five Os and six Es,” Mikleo shot back immediately after, the smirk widening triumphantly. “Seems like your stint with Unsleeping Curse was all for naught if you only got an A from Potions.”

 

“Actually, I got an A from Astronomy – It's a fascinating subject, but I have never been good at staying awake in those classes,” the brunet announced, watching how Mikleo's face paled few shades more with a strange fascination – after all, the Slytherin already looked like he had been dipped into a flour bag as a child. “So... See you in the class?”

 

“You can't be serious,” Mikeo stated, voice choked and full of disbelief. “Professor Forton can't seriously let you in the classroom after what you did to Boris Strelka during the exam.”

 

Sorey shrugged, trying not to cringe at the memory. Half delirious from the lack of sleep, he had misread 'half inch of Veil Scaled lizard's tail' as 'half inch of Vale Scaled lizard's tail' which had reacted poorly to the birch leaves in his potion. Poor Boris had to finish the test with his feet turned to stone.

 

“Well then,” Zaveid spoke suddenly from the sidelines, clasping his hands together, “now that your little nerd-off is over, how about we– Hey Dezel, where are you going?!”

 

The teen in question had turned his back on the group and walking farther away from them. “Leaving, obviously,” he replied gruffly, not bothering to look back.

 

“H-Hey, wait for me!” Mikleo called out, rushing after the Hufflepuff. Soon after reaching Dezel, Mikleo turned to look behind his back one last time, his violet eyes meeting Sorey's. It was a challenge, to once again compete and demonstrate for the best grades and demonstrating better magical skills.

 

Sorey straightened his back and held his chin up. Perhaps Mikleo had gotten better O.W.L results – actually, it had been something Sorey had expected if he was completely honest. After years of competition between of them, Sorey had learned they were the different sides of the same coin; he was rather chaotic and followed his own intuition whereas Mikleo was organized and liked to follow set rules. When it came to academical tests and exams, Mikleo's way proved to be better. However, that didn't discourage Sorey the slightest, it just made him try harder, made every victory over Mikleo more rewarding and thus made him strive to learn more.

 

Lailah had once asked if he hated it, how the things were between the two of them. She couldn't understand it; heck even Sorey had trouble fully comprehending his feelings towards Mikleo, who was both a constant thorn in his side and yet the origin of Sorey's motivation – he was so frustratingly stubborn and prideful and yet nobody else could provoke Sorey's mind like the Slytherin did.

 

How could Sorey truly hate it when it was the very thing that made his years in Hogwarts even more interesting?

 

0o0o0

 

“Are you sure you don't want to come?”

 

Sergei Strelka was standing by the doorway of their dorm room, clad in his quidditch robe and one hand grasping his brand new Firebolt II. He was looking at Zaveid, who was lying on his bed, a frown marring the prefect's face. “I mean, you could just watch.”

 

The other teen shook his head, “Nah, you know me, Sergei, that would just make me wanna get on a broom – which wouldn't be the best idea, with this ankle of mine...”

 

In the bed next to Zaveid's, Sorey flipped the page of his _Guide to Advanced Transfiguration_ as slow as possible and grimaced behind the book covers.

 

In Sorey's opinion, Sergei Strelka was a great guy. While their interests didn't quite match, the two of them had gotten along ever since their first meeting and Sorey couldn't think of a better person to share the dorm room with. Sergei was the epitome of a Gryffindor, a noble yet hot headed youngster and it certainly hadn't been a surprise he got the badge of prefect.

 

“Ah, you're probably right,” Sergei scratched his chin, still looking at Zaveid with a concerned expression.

 

However, the teen was as good at detecting lies as Sorey was at lying and the latter was certain this fact often made Sergei's twin brother Boris lie awake at nights.

 

“Sergei please, don't make that face, I got Sorey here to ease my boredom,” Zaveid waved his hand in Sorey's direction, “So no need to worry about little old me. Go show that awesome broom of yours to the rest of the team.”

 

Sergei looked genuinely touched and Sorey kind of wanted to hit Zaveid. Because naturally, Zaveid found Sergei's lack of distrust absolutely hilarious and every time he and Sorey needed some time to work on their project, Zaveid came up with all kinds of excuses, each more ridiculous than last, to get Sergei out of the way.

 

Which was why Zaveid was currently declining Sergei's invitation to go _flying_ with few other team members because his _ankle_ hurt.

 

Sorey made a mental note to buy something nice for Sergei from Honeydukes next Hogsmeade visit.

 

The quidditch players exchanged few words before Sergei left and knowing him, probably wouldn't come back until dinner.

 

“You know,” Zaveid sighed as soon as they couldn't hear Sergei's footsteps in the corridor, “Sometimes I worry about that boy.”

 

Sorey hummed and turned another page when suddenly, Zaveid somehow managed to leap from his bed to Sorey's, snatching the book from the brunet's hands and tossing it onto the floor. “Hey, I didn't mark the spot,” Sorey cried out.

 

“Dude, you were reading a school book, it's not like you won't get to read it again,” Zaveid rolled his red eyes. “But Sorey, my man, my brother-in-arms, we have been in this jail for a week now and we still haven't done any progress with our little... project. I don't know about you but I have been itching to get the gears rolling. And by that I know your big nerd heart has been beating to the rhythm of Professor Maltron's lecture we heard back in the third year.”

 

“What does that even mean?” Sorey asked but Zaveid had already left his personal space and was currently digging through his trunk.

 

“C'mon Sorey, we don't have all the time in the world,” the teen stated as he dug out a notebook. It had brownish red covers void of ink marks, looking like it had just been bought. Zaveid pulled out his wand from his robes, _“Let's hope this secret will not leave these walls,”_ he said solemnly while tapping the notebook with his wand, _“Because if Lailah finds out, I have to say goodbye to my balls.”_

 

As soon as the last word left Zaveid's lips, the notebook started changing. The pages yellowed considerably and the corners of the covers rolled as spots of dried ink appeared all over the book.

 

Sorey himself rolled out of his bed and opened his own trunk. After digging through his many pairs of unmatching socks, he managed to find the small brown package that had caused such chaos merely a week ago. Excitement bubbling in his chest, Sorey ripped the brown paper off, revealing a small wooden box.

 

“Open it,” Zaveid whispered, his breath tickling Sorey's cheek. They both held their breaths as the brunet removed the lid with shaking fingers. Inside the box laid a small glass bottle full of translucent liquid that sparkled like a diamond when the brunet picked the bottle up and brought it close to the window besides his bed.

 

“Yeah,” Zaveid mumbled, eyes focused onto the object in Sorey's hand. “Yeah, fuck, this is it! Finely grounded Devil's Snare mixed with phoenix's tears – shit, what did the book have to say about this?”

 

Sorey put the bottle back in the box while Zaveid flipped the pages of the notebook frantically, ruby eyes skimming through the yellowed papers until he eventually halted, mouthing the words written with faded ink. “Just as I recalled – it says here we have to draw the diagram of Cross-species Switches with the Devil's snare liquid by using a wand onto our backs and keep it there for approximately two weeks...”

 

“And after that?”

 

Zaveid turned the page, “Then we cannot eat chicken, apples, rice of any kind, strawberries or potatoes for one and half weeks; instead, we should stuff ourselves with citrus fruits and sardines as much as we possibly can. And after that...” he turned the page, an excited grin blooming on his face as the pure-blood wizard tore his gaze from the book to meet Sorey's eyes. “After that we should try to meditate every day at least for an hour and if everything goes according to the plan... within a month we should be finished!”

 

Eyes wide as plates, Sorey exclaimed, “You're serious?!”

 

The other Gryffindor nodded rabidly. “It says so in here! Dude, just imagine, this time next month we could actually be full-fledged animagi!”

 

A small elated laugh escaped from Sorey's mouth. After years of secrecy, all-nighters and almost non-stop research, their little project would be done.

 

It all had started in their second year, when Zaveid had stumbled onto an old notebook in the attic of his family mansion during the Christmas vacation. According to him, it had been written by his great-grandaunt Wilhelmina who had been fascinated by transfiguration and dedicated her whole life to researching the subject. The book was a guide on how to become an animagus, based on her own experience of becoming one, which she had succeeded in, Zaveid had told. Her animal form had been a salmon and soon after she had succeeded in becoming an animagus, Wilhelmina had dived into the Thames, transforming in front of over twenty muggles and never been heard of again, at least according to the Wirukun family legend.

 

Naturally, the first thing Zaveid did, after returning to Hogwarts, was show the notebook to Sorey. _“I did some research and dude, everything written here is legit! And there's nothing really bizarrely complicated stuff either, like spells only a wizard pushing over their second century would know...”_ Zaveid had said, hands grasping the notebook and eyes twinkling in giddy elation, _“It's all pretty simple, merely weird and will probably take years... But imagine Sorey, we could actually become animagi! So, are you with me or not?”_

 

Sorey recalled how Zaveid had reached out his right hand, his face open and eager, how his own face had splint into an enthusiastic grin because honestly, how could he refuse such an offer, “Of course!” had been his answer.

 

It had been quite a journey, Sorey mused. Tiring and sometimes frustrating as some of the things they had to do were mind bogging, and the idea of soon being finished brought a feeling of relief with a tinge of melancholy to his chest.

 

The worst part of it all had been the constant secrecy. Sorey didn't like lying, especially to his friends. Back when they first started, they kept their little project a secret because they knew Lailah would try everything in her power to stop them – all of them knew trying to become an animagus was dangerous. “Let's tell them next month,” Zaveid had said during the time when they had to keep a leaf of a mandrake in their mouth for a full month. “After this month, there's no going back.”

 

That had been the plan until Professor Maltran lectured about animagus and the pair found out about the legal procedures and what exactly happened to unregistered animagi merely two weeks later. After that information bomb, secrecy became a matter of making sure their friends wouldn't get in trouble if something really happened to Sorey and Zaveid.

 

Sorey snapped out of his thoughts when a shirt was tossed onto his face. “This ain't the time to daydream!” Zaveid called out as he flopped down in front of Sorey.

 

“Do me first! Wait, actually...” the teen looked behind him, waggling his eyebrows in a suggestive manner, “ You're welcome to do me anytime, anywhere and anyhow.”

 

Sorey opened the small bottle and carefully dipped the tip of his wand into it, “Sorry, I think I have decline. Please hold still, we only have so much of this stuff.”

 

Zaveid turned his head back towards the door, “Sorey please, everybody wants a piece of this pure-blood body – you have seen the way people look at me in the common room.”

 

“That's probably because you refuse to wear a shirt half the time we're there.”

 

“Well, with abs like mine, why should I? Actually, since I'm now seventeen, I have been thinking about getting a tattoo. Something cool – maybe a dragon, everybody thinks dragons are cool, right?”

 

“Personally, I think dragons are kind of overrated,” Sorey claimed as he drew the rune of phoenix right between Zaveid's shoulder blades. When he found out that dragons were real, Sorey had been, to put it lightly, over the moon. But the more he researched about them, the more he realized that muggles had been quite on point with their descriptions of the giant creatures and after a childhood of pouring over every fantasy novel with dragons in them, Sorey couldn't help but to admit that dragons, while amazing and powerful, were honestly from the duller end of the magical creatures. “They're cool, but not as cool as, let's say... veelas or goblins.”

 

“Yeah yeah, we all know your fascination with goblins, you weirdo– wait a sec,” Zaveid suddenly twisted around, just when Sorey was almost finished with the symbol of Jupiter on his right side, “Oh you sly dog, Sorey!” he cackled, patting the other Gryffindor's shoulder rather awkwardly, thanks to their positions.

 

“What did I say about moving,” Sorey sighed, “Besides, what are you even laughing about?”

 

“I never thought you were into veelas.”

 

“Veelas are super cool! Not only do they have their own type of magic that reacts so strongly with ours that it leaves wizards and witches absolutely charmed,also have you seen how they can transform just with their willpower alone – not to mention they are capable of having children with normal humans who then have a really fascinating mix of magic–”

 

“Should have known you would be excited over that,” Zaveid mumbled with a disappointed tone, shoulder slightly slumped. “And hey, just for what ability have we been working to get for these past four years?”

 

Sorey replied with a hum, tongue sticking out of his mouth as he carefully painted the twisting lines of Magister's Rune under the other's right shoulder blade. After the last line was drawn, Sorey lowered his wand and took a moment to admire his handiwork. The unique ink had left thin silver colored lines on Zaveid's back, glittering faintly against the dark skin. “I'm done,” Sorey announced.

 

Zaveid relaxed almost immediately, “Accio mirror,” he said with a flick of his wand and a round hand mirror shot up from the Gryffindor's nightstand and flew into his waiting hand.

 

Sorey started unbuttoning his shirt while Zaveid examined the mark on his back. “Nice job,” the older boy said as he stood up, patting Sorey's shoulder as he placed himself behind him, still shirtless.

 

Sorey really hoped that Sergei wouldn't barge in near future, certain even Zaveid couldn't whip up a convincing lie why they both were sitting on floor only in their pants and painting each other's backs.

 

Few minutes later, Zaveid let out a hum of approval, “Satisfied?” he inquired, handing his mirror to Sorey. The teen nodded after a moment of examination.

 

“What do you wanna do now?” Sorey asked as he reached for his shirt, the magical ink already dry. “Are you going to experience a sudden miracle healing and head out for the Quidditch pitch?”

 

Zaveid gasped in mock shock, hand on his chest and eyes shining with mirth, “The nerve, Shepherd! I didn't teach you sass so you could use it against me. I am wounded, offended beyond belief you would betray me, the barely not disowned heir of the Wirukun family!” when Sorey offered nothing more than a raised eyebrow, Zaveid dropped his hand and shrugged, “Nah, I think I'll spend the day with my animagus pal-in-crime! What do you think about getting brunch from the kitchen?”

 

“That... is actually pretty good idea,” Sorey admitted as he get on his feet.

 

“I only have good ideas,” Zaveid declared cheerfully, standing up and brushing invisible dust off his pants.

 

The corridors of the castle were almost empty, everybody enjoying their first Saturday back in the school to their fullest. They did pass by a few first year Ravenclaws who were trying their best to memorize the complicated layout of the Hogwarts castle.

 

Soon after they passed the Great Hall, Zaveid suddenly spoke, “Oh yeah, do you know where our lovely Hufflepuff lady friends are?”

 

“In the library,” Sorey replied, “They have Divination homework; I think Lailah mentioned something about predicting the weather from the bones of rodents.”

 

“Divination, bleh,” Zaveid made a face, “I still can't believe they decided to continue that bullshit of a class.”

 

“I dunno, Lailah can get scarily accurate when it comes to reading Tarot cards.”

 

“Yeah, but that's Lailah we're talking about – I wouldn't be surprised if she knew the secrets of the whole damn universe.”

 

It didn't take long for the pair of Gryffindors to come across the big painting of a fruit bowl; the way to the kitchen was a familiar one for them. Sorey tickled the pear lightly as Zaveid made sure nobody was around – the halls might be empty during weekends but there was always a chance of few Hufflepuffs wandering near.

 

Sorey had managed to discover the secret of the fruit bowl painting during their third year. He had been wondering the origin of the food since the first year, but Sorey had seriously started searching for it two years later. It had taken him few months of investigation and finding the kitchen had been quite anti-climatic; one Thursday afternoon Sorey had been hanging out with Alisha and Lailah in the Hufflepuff basement and upon leaving it, he had realized that they were almost perfectly under the Great Hall. After few hours of examining every possible painting, and one suit of armor, the Gryffindor had come across the painting of a silver fruit bowl. The rest was history and even today Zaveid occasionally liked to thank Sorey for the discovery.

 

He had barely climbed through the painting hole when Sorey's nose was invaded by the smell of delicious food and his stomach growled, despite having eaten breakfast barely two hours before.

 

Even after years of regularly visiting the kitchen, it took few minutes for Sorey's senses to get used to it. Because it didn't matter what time he visited it, the kitchen was always bustling; it was loud, there was movement everywhere, and even the strongest cleaning spells couldn't get rid of the aroma of food from the walls and ceiling. In Sorey's opinion, it was probably one of the most fascinating places in the castle, and not just because it was where all the delicious food came from.

 

One of the house-elves, dressed in a black pillow case with golden crowns printed onto the fabric, approached the pair of students, “Master Shepherd, Master Wirukun!” he squeaked, bowing deeply.

 

“Hi Atakk,” Sorey greeted. Beside him, Zaveid gave the small creature a wave. “It's been a while, hasn't it? How was your summer?”

 

“Atakk is very glad to see both Masters in good health,” the house-elf answered, his huge eyes looking up at them with a smile on his face that made his leathery skin even wrinklier. “Atakk's summer was very good. Master Shepherd is very kind to ask about little Atakk's summer.”

 

“That's great,” Sorey grinned, half tempted to ask what exactly the house-elves of Hogwarts did during the summer vacation.

 

“But oh, Atakk is rambling!” Atakk squeaked, rubbing his big hands together, “Should Atakk bring Masters some snacks?”

 

“That would be appreciated,” Zaveid said as he was already walking towards the tiny wooden table that had been dragged into one corner, “I would like a fruit tart and some pumpkin juice.”

 

“I'll take that too, if that's not much trouble.”

 

Atakk shook his head, big ears flapping wildly, “No trouble at all, young masters!” he dashed off into the sea of house-elves.

 

Sorey had barely managed to sit down when Atakk returned with a tray obediently levitating behind him. The tray smoothly landed on the table, revealing two plates with big, delicious looking tarts on each plate and a big jug of pumpkin juice. The small house-elf snapped his fingers and two goblets appeared in front of the students from thin air.

 

“Is there anything else Masters want?”

 

“No, this is enough,” Sorey smiled warmly, “Thank you Atakk.”

 

Zaveid, who had already taken a big bite off his tart, mumbled something that could have been a thank you and a bit of strawberry juice dripped from his mouth. The house-elf bowed one last time before vanishing.

 

The pair spent a long time in the kitchens, chattering about their slowly growing workload and the newest gossip, such as whether or not Professor Maltran was actually having an illicit love affair with Headmaster Heldalf (Sorey was certain it wasn't true but Zaveid swore he had once caught Professor Maltran winking at the Headmaster) and if Professor Mayvin was actually a convicted felon from Poland (Sorey vehemently denied any sort of possibility and Zaveid had to point out he idolized the old man so much he could murder somebody in front of Sorey and the teen still would defend him. Honestly, a part of Sorey couldn't deny that.).

 

Eventually, during an intense conversation about the probability of Professor Symonne having a dementor patronus, Sorey happened to glance his watch and realized they had been sitting there over an hour.

 

“We should probably leave,” he suggested with a frown, a tinge of guilt prickling his chest, “I don't want to bother the house-elves any more than we already have.”

 

The other teen rolled his eyes, “Sorey, we could literally make a camp right here right now and spend as much as time here as we wanted and the only thing the house-elves would want to know is _if young masters wanted some snacks.”_ Zaveid said the last few words with a high-pitched voice, making an impressive imitation of the house-elves squeaky voice and Sorey couldn't but to crack a smile. “But if you insist, I'm fine with leaving.”

 

The pair stood up, stools creaking at the sudden movement. “Thank you for your hospitality!” Sorey called out before climbing through the exit. There was no reply which didn't really bother him – after all, the house-elves were a busy bunch.

 

Entering the basement corridor felt like stepping into a fridge to Sorey, as the cool, fresh air in the stone passageway was such a sudden change from the warm and aromatic one in the kitchen. A shiver ran up his spine.

 

Zaveid swung the fruit bowl painting back to its place, “So what now?” he asked as they started walking.

 

There was still time before lunch was served, not that Sorey really felt like eating again so soon. However, he did have a copy of _'Clash of Silver and Gold: the bloody Goblin Rebellions throughout the Ages'_ on his nightstand, waiting to be finally finished.

 

But before he could actually say anything, Zaveid suddenly grabbed Sorey by his robes, pulling him backwards.

 

A quiet yelp escaped from Sorey's mouth and when he turned towards to his friend, he saw Zaveid holding his index finger in front of his lips, eyes gazing somewhere in front of them. They both stayed silent and it didn't take long before Sorey heard foot steps echoing through the stone walls, their source coming somewhere behind the corner.

 

It wasn't unusual, the corridor was where the Hufflepuff dorms were located, the entryway hidden behind a stack of barrels. There was the constant risk of being seen by a Hufflepuff student when Sorey and his friends ventured to the kitchens – a pair of Gryffindors down there would raise questions even if Lailah and Alisha were Hufflepuffs. It didn't help that the hallway with the kitchen entrance was a dead end and coming from that direction was highly suspicious.

 

Zaveid started moving, slowly and deliberately like a cat, until he managed to approach the point where the corridor took a sharp left. Fortunately, a suit of armor was placed there, making it easier to look behind the corner. When Zaveid did so, Sorey could see confusion written all over his face.

 

The brunet sneaked up next to Zaveid, leaning beside the taller teen to scan the area behind the corner.

 

There was a student there, their back turned to Sorey but even then, the distinct silver-hair on their head made it obvious who it was.

 

“What is Mikleo doing here?” Sorey whispered, watching as the teen in question stared at the stack of barrels, hands on his hips.

 

“I'm not here to enter the common room,” Mikleo's voice rang through the walls, “I'm just looking for Dezel Yurlin, could you please send him here?”

 

Silence fell over the hallway and just when Sorey's neck was starting to ache thanks to his position, the lid of the biggest barrel swung open and Dezel walked out of it, looking even more disgruntled than usually.

 

“What do you want?” was how the Hufflepuff greeted his friend.

 

Mikleo, apparently used to this kind of behavior, merely raised an eyebrow. “We were supposed to meet in the library an hour ago.”

 

Sorey watched how Dezel opened his mouth, closed it a moment later before crossing his arms and pointedly not looking at Mikleo. “Don't tell me you were so engrossed with writing your journal that you forgot?” the silver-haired Slytherin huffed in amusement.

 

“Shut up.”

 

Sorey could hear Zaveid snickering silently next to him.

 

“Sorry, sorry,” Mikleo apologized rather flippantly, “Geez, you know I'm not forcing you to help me.”

 

“We have been over this, you're not forcing me to do anything. In fact,” Dezel shifted his posture, shoulders sinking and eyes still not looking at his friend. He looked defeated and frail and Sorey couldn't help but to feel a tinge of worry at the sudden change. “you're fully aware I'm just using your knowledge to further my own agenda.”

 

Dezel's tone was bitter and the smile on his face was sour. Sorey exchanged confused glances with Zaveid. Suddenly, the air in the hallway seemed to have an icy edge, making it harder to breathe.

 

Mikleo placed his hand on the Hufflepuff's shoulder, biting his lower lip. “It's fine, you know. Let's just agree we're in this together, yeah?” his tone was gentle and comforting and somewhere in the deepest corners of his mind Sorey thought he had never realized Mikleo could sound like that.

 

“I don't need your pity,” Dezel replied, his tone lacking any kind of real bite.

 

“It's not pity, just showing concern for a friend,” Mikleo rolled his eyes, gently squeezing Dezel's shoulder before letting his hand fall limply on his side. “We should probably go now. I doubt there's a crowd in the library, after all the term started merely a week ago, but the more secluded tables are always the first ones to get occupied.”

 

The Hufflepuff grunted in agreement and the pair walked away in silence, their footsteps continuing to echo even after they disappeared the Gryffindors' vision.

 

Eventually, even the sound of footsteps faded.

 

“What in the name of Merlin's sagging balls was that?” Zaveid wondered aloud after few moments of absolute silence, eyes still on the spot where Dezel and Mikleo had stood. The expression on his face was strange, an odd mixture of stony blankness and bewilderment, something Sorey had never seen on the taller boy's face.

 

Sorey shrugged, a frown still marring his face. He thought back about Dezel's defeated posture and bitter tone, as well as Mikleo's comforting gestures and gentle words and felt guilty because he and Zaveid had eavesdropped.

 

“You interested in doing some investigation?”

 

The brunet shook his head sharply, “I'm curious but... it really isn't our place to stick our noses in their business,” there was an annoyed edge in his tone, his conscience already gnawing a hole in his chest because they weren't supposed to have witnessed something that seemed a private scene between two friends.

 

Zaveid threw his arm around Sorey's shoulders, pulling the shorter one snugly against him. Suddenly, there was a hand on Sorey's head ruffling his brown hair in a comforting manner, “Geez, that was just a joke, you big dumb Gryffindor,” there was a fond smile on Zaveid's face, any marks of his previous weird expression having been schooled away, and Sorey couldn't help but to feel his own lips tugging upwards at the sight.

 

“Seems like the Sorting Hat knows how to do its job.”

 

The fair-haired Gryffindor barked out a laugh, “Well that's like the only reason for its existence so good for it,” he gave one last pat on Sorey's head before removing his arm from the other's shoulders. “Anyways, we should probably leave now before more Hufflepuffs appear and we have to use our Excuse number 4 to explain why we're here.”

 

“What's Excuse number 4?” Sorey, despite knowing better, asked.

 

“It's 'we came down here to find a place for some good ol' corner dancing'.”

 

“And dare I ask about the first three excuses?” Sorey sighed as they started walking. There was a wolfish grin on his friend's face that told Sorey that no, he did not want to know.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy shit I am so sorry it took me this long to update this fic. I don't have any real reasons other than lack of motivation (which was cured by Tales of Berseria like oh man I am so excited)
> 
> Once again, big thank you to my bro Bakamaze for betaing and being a cheerleader when I needed it!

**Author's Note:**

> Holy shit it has been ages since I published a multichapter fic (last time was like four years ago)  
> Super special thanks to Bakamaze for brainstorming and betaing!


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